Shades of Gray and Darker than Black
by CrazedChakra101
Summary: Does salvation truly lie in the heart of the broken? A tale of the savior, and the ones who saved him from the rest of the world. Harry Potter/Susan Bones/Daphne Greengrass. A slightly different Independent Harry. Chapter 11 is up!
1. Prologue

D/C Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. It's as simple as that.

Prologue

He really was a quiet and unassuming little child; a well behaved boy, as a matter of fact. Regardless of what the neighbors believed (of the rumors that his aunt and uncle had spread) he was not in fact a delinquent. He was polite and courteous, and he never complained; and he did not throw tantrums or throw things around when the things in life didn't go his way. If anything, he was a lovely child...

So why, then, was he so unloved?

Was it because he was an orphan, born from parents of shame? Was it the things that kept happening around him, when he was sad or angry, alone and afraid? Or was there something really wrong with him, something _unusual_, as Uncle Vernon always claimed? Did it really matter? Perhaps it didn't. He had no friends, no mentors, and no family to tell him any different...And so he had learned to accept it all the same. He accepted it as he accepted the loneliness of his life...But he hated it. Hated it, but loved it; for the loneliness was his shield.

Anyone who cared to notice would've been appalled by the signs of neglect that troubled the boy. He was small and skinny, obviously underfed, and he appeared distinctly miserable dressed in clothes more appropriate for rags. It was no small wonder that the round rim glasses stayed perched on his nose; they were barely held in place by layer upon layer of yellowing tape, a new layer for each time his cousin came and cracked him across the nose. Whenever he was allowed to leave the house he had a tendency to hit the ground running; Dudley and his gang were just certain to follow, hounding him at every step. Getting away was his only option; getting caught meant a round of kicks, a beat down, and bruised ribs, and returning home led to being tossed in the cupboard (with no meals for a week), as punishment for 'starting the fight.' Despite the crushing weight of sadness within and the raging bitterness of his heart, Harry Potter did not frown, nor did he cry to the rest of the world. But he never smiled; he was a lovely child, but he never smiled.

And so it was that things came to pass. No one really noticed the boy's unloved state, and for those who had sworn to protect him, that mightn't have been for the best. For it was a culmination of events during the summer of '91 when a young and innocent wizard truly discovered himself.

A/N: Short prologue for a little experiment I thought up one night when I had trouble sleeping in bed. I never thought I'd be actually doing this...So if interest is good, I'll be happy to go straight away at this fic. If not, well, no loss!

Probably not a DARK Harry fic, but not a naive Mr. Nice guy either. I must admit, I'm a kind of rusty at this. Hoping to add the first chapter in a day or two, a week tops. Whether it's good or bad, press that lil button in the corner and review! Just don't shoot the fic out of the sky, before it's even begun. Don't even think about asking for pairings; you can try to influence my hand (despite previous warning, please do!), but I think I've already decided who I'm going to pick. Not Hermoine, Ginny, or Cho; nope, nope, to many of those; that just wouldn't do. So review, okays? Okay. Thanks for readin'!

P.S. Beta not required, but it might be nice...


	2. Chapter 1

D/C: Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. It's as simple as that.

Chapter 1

Having lived long enough in the world to have learned a thing or two, Harry Potter learned that life was many things, but it wasn't a fairy tale, and not all things in it were beautiful and bright. But there was beauty in the world; he had no illusions about that. He witnessed it while he cared for the Petunia's rose bushes; felt its caress in the morning breeze; and tasted it on the tip of his tongue, whenever the skies poured and it rained. There was also beauty in wonder and innocence, but where the Dursley's had succeeded in stamping out hope, there was nothing they could do about his intellect and his dreams.

So innocence died...But the wonder still lived. And through the wonders of imagination and intellect, he began to understand many things.

Why did things happen around him when he was happy, lonely, angry, or sad? It was no longer a question; it was because he wanted those things to happen. _Wanted_, and _willed_ it. Willed it, and believed it, and conceived it from within. Impossible, it should have been...But so were most of the feats he had done.

Now, where was he to begin?

For one, he had managed to grow invisible at the most opportune of times while Dudley and his gang were out "Harry Hunting" for him. It'd become a fun and profitable venture, watching 'em mull around in confusion as he secretly loosened their wallets for them. Getting held up for class, he'd pop smack dab in front of Magnolia Elementary, long before Vernon dropped Dudley off at said school. And after a few particularly bad "time out" sessions, he had watched, mystified, as his assorted wounds started misting over, inexplicably mending themselves.

Some of these feats came to him subconsciously; some occurred with a mere gesture or thought. They were always accompanied by a tingle, like a strong mental pull, like the tug of an anchor lying from within. As he grew to foster these 'abilities' (he was starting to consciously draw on them, but even a bit of focus often left him a little hollow and drained) he came to a realization; everything his aunt and uncle had said were wrong. Harry Potter wasn't a freak; he was special.

And under the ignorant eyes of his hated relatives, he grew.

Present Day, June 21, 1991

"Harry Hunting" had truly grown onto him as a cat-and-mouse sport. It was no longer painful or excruciating, at least, not for him. What Dudders and the Dunderheads didn't know yet was that, for some time now, they were not the predators, and Harry was no longer the prey. How the tables had turned...For now Harry was the cat. And like any cat worth its whiskers, he loved to play with his prey.

Running circles around Dudley's gang was all well and good, but playing the same song and dance all over again was nothing short of lame. Subtly employing his skills certainly livened things up; it was good practice, and it was nice to watch them stumble in disarray. Especially when he succeeding in turning them against on one another.

"You're not getting away this time, Potter!"

That was Gordon Fletcher. He had watery eyes and a squashed nose, probably because he'd just tried to run through a brick wall.

"Stay still, you little runt!" Two individuals gasped.

Now that was Malcolm and Dennis. It looked as if the lanky boys were running a bizarre three legged race, and as it turned out, they were. Somewhere along the shuffle, their shoe laces had gotten tangled, and now they were tied.

"Yawn!"

And that was Harry Potter. He was ten years old, and still fresh from his run, but he was getting bored.

"What's the matter, Dudley? Is ickle Dudderkins getting tired already?" Harry addressed him in an innocently sweet tone. "We're just barely on the third circuit, and you're already lagging behind! Need a handicap?" He cooed, "Want me to hop around on one leg?"

Oh, if only looks could kill...Dudley was on the verge of blowing a vessel! He was cursing something fierce as Harry ran around the corner, mentally maneuvering a short tempered Piers Polkiss right into his path. Glancing back, Harry was rewarded with the sight of Dudley's gang spilling over like a bunch of ten pin bowling pins. There were shouts and roars, and a _squeal_ accompanied by the glorious smack of thundering fists. Watching the scene with the detached amusement, he stole a brief glance at his (Pier's) brand new watch.

It was exactly two in the afternoon.

"Well, well, well, how time flies," The green eyed wonder muttered. "Well, I guess that's enough for today. Harry Potter 1: Dudders and Co. zip."

Stowing away the pilfered watch, Harry Potter ambled down Magnolia Road with a satisfied look on his face.

He was content.

--

Minutes later...

Harry was just wandering through the shops around Little Whinging, counting up his most recent (ill gotten) gains when serendipity hit him like a bullet train. It was a worn shop sign that had caught his eye, and two years before it wouldn't have warranted anything of interest. But things had changed since then, and in that instant what he had always ignored had suddenly become pertinent. The sign read in fading elegant script, _December's Shop of Timeless Wonders_. Beneath that was an additional sign meant only as a joke.

"Both Magical, and Not."

The latter addition gave Harry reason to pause. Magic? Now that caught his attention. Magic...Why hadn't he thought of it before? He had never perceived his abilities as such, but in some distant part of his mind the notion seemed to agree with him. It certainly had its own appeal; wasn't it the Dursleys who frequently shouted that there was no such thing as magic?

"Yes...Yes, they did, didn't they? Hmm...Magic," He repeated aloud. The word sounded natural to his ears. It sounded _good_. Without sparing a second thought, the curious lad stepped into the store.

The heavy oak door swung inward at a touch, greeting him into a candle lit foyer with a stone checkered floor. Hanging from the ceiling were a dozen of round paper lanterns, patterned in diamond sequence, from this room to the next. Shelves of books lined the walls on each side, and ladders, the kind that were mounted on tracks, were positioned accordingly for easy reach. Several wooden islands broke the tedium of space in between, and atop said islands were display cases of old fashioned things, some which he recognized in history books, others had yet to be seen. It felt like he had done more than just step into a shop; something about the place made him feel like he had entered another world, or yet, another time, one removed from the normalcy of Little Whinging. Maybe he had, but one thing was for sure.

He was going to like it.

In the center of it all, the proprietor of _December's Timeless Wonders_ sat around a cluttered sales counter, looking right at home with the rest of her shop. She was a tall, raven brunette with strong forthright eyes, and she was adorned elegantly in a long velvet skirt with a red corset top.

"Hullo. Welcome to my store," She greeted Harry with a genial grin. "Now lessee...I'm normally good with faces, but for the life of me, I can't place a name. Never been here before, have ya?"

Not the expected reception, but who was he to complain? Something about her mannerisms set him straightaway at ease.

"No. No, you haven't met me before. I'm...Just Harry," He modestly returned.

"Lovely. The name's December by the way, but by now I gather you already know that." Adopting a business-like air (but still retaining her smile) she asked, "So, _Just_ Harry, come in here for anything in particular? Been a while since someone wandered into my store."

"I, er...I'm not in here for anything in particular," He scratched his head, speaking truthfully. "I had nothing better to do...And I was curious. I was just wondering why I never really noticed this place before..."

December nodded sagely, not at all offended by his answer.

"Well, as anyone can tell you, curiosity is not a crime," She enthused in her slightly accented drawl, "And discovery is only half the fun. I'm open late tonight, so go ahead and take your time, kiddo."

And Harry did exactly that.

Wonders would never cease, as he examined a variety of objects, from knick-knacks and gadgets, and other pretty little things. It was in the midst of admiring a working model of a small Chinese water clock when he noticed the thin opaque case. The case was sitting there to one side, and it was compromised by a chest of cherry wood, and protected by a lid of glass embossed with a silver design. Nestled within its velvety confines was an object that confused him to no end; it was a finely polished length of wood, sturdy and gnarled, but strikingly smooth. Running a finger over its sides, his body shook with a cool tingle. And there it was; that familiar mental tug. Only now, the sensations were stronger...

No, not stronger. Rather more, _intense_.

The sensations crashed over the ten year old like a tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm him. He gasped and fought his buckling knees, forcing deep breaths in. He closed his eyes and concentrated, counting down to thirty, and counting once again. Once he'd taken a minute to steady himself, he relinquished the flood gates and allowed the feelings to seep from within. It was...Exhilarating. He hadn't felt this good in...Ever!

Eying the attached tag, the green eyed wonder read the label out loud.

"Hemlock and roc feather, nine inches."

Harry scratched his head in uncertainty. What?

As is in answer to the unsaid question, December's voice rang distantly from the other side of the room.

"Oh, that ol' thing? Didn't think you would find that. That there's a magician's wand."

"Magician...?"

"Aye," December affirmed, assessing the glint in his eyes. "It's only a prop, I'm afraid, but it's still an antiquity. It's a little pricey, I must admit, but it's beautiful to look at."

"Yes...It is beautiful," He responded distantly, cradling the wand. "I know it's not my place to ask, but out of curiosity...W-where did you get this?"

"Don't rightly remember," She mused with a shake of her head. "I used to be a traveler in my younger days...Reckon I've gone through every corner of the globe. Picked up a trove of obscure possessions along the way, and hoarded it all at home. My traveling days are over, and it became a little too much for me. I didn't just want to throw it all away, and that's how my shop came to be."

"But I must digress," December chuckled with an easy grin. "I'm just rambling right now, and it's not that important anyhow. What _is_ important is that you are the customer, and _you_ are interested in the magic stick. Would you like me to ring it up? I'll give you a little discount..."

"Yes...I mean, no, no, there's no need for that," He hastily flushed and amended, "I'll be happy to pay for it all...No really, I insist. Really, really. Please?"

"A very modest boy," December approved. "All right. As long as you insist."

And so Harry strode up to the register with his strange looking purchase, setting it down with some obvious reluctance. Seeing this, December quickly pried the tag off the wand and handed it back just as swiftly. The purchase was wrung up (with no need for bag; the wand was easier to hide in the folds of his clothes), and Harry, for the briefest of moments, experienced his first taste of childish glee.

"Glad you love it so much," The store proprietor said. Harry contained his delight long enough to address her with a somber nod. "Come back any time curiosity calls. Have a nice day, Harry."

"Thank you, and you too," The boy replied in kind.

December watched him leave with the smallest of smiles. He waved once in farewell as he turned at the entrance, and with a click from the door latch he was gone.

"It's so hard to believe I was once so young," She sighed nostalgically to herself. "I've traveled the world, seen every sight that there is to see, while you have yet to discover it. You are young; perhaps my wand will help you find your way. May the fates smile upon you...Harry Potter."

A/N: So, how do you like that? December happens to be a character in an original fantasy tale I am currently writing. Currently shelved...Plot bunnies and all. Cute as they may be, they are annoying as hell. Questions? Comments? _Criticisms_? Or just plain support, give it to me the only way you can: review! Until the next installment, I will say thanks to you all, and adieu.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

D/C: Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. It's as simple as that.

June passed in a blur, followed closely by the month of July. It had been a slow summer with the Dursleys, and everybody was doing everything they could to pass away their time. Dudley stayed all day in his room, fiddling with his new PC. Petunia was enrapt with her television shows, with emphasis on soap opera sleaze. Vernon had his hands full with an odd influx of letters, and he was acting as strange as strange as could be. He was mutterings things: "Watching-Spying-Probably following us," and he was constantly up on his toes. Now what had come over Vernon? The green eyed wonder thought it best not to know.

Harry hunting, it seemed, had gone out of season. Dudley's gang were far more interested in relaxation - but the boy was not so complacent. No matter what he chose to do for a given day, the green eyed wonder always reserved time for exercise. Along with his devoted faith in the practice of magic, Harry pushed himself as equally as hard to gain in physical strength. It was the best of both worlds; he was now as fast with his wand as he was with his feet, and his endurance (both mental and physical) knew few bounds...

Not that it got to his head, oh no. He was only a ten year old.

"That's old enough for you to fend for yourself," His relatives had reasoned. And so they gave up the thankless task of raising the child...

And Harry Potter was free.

Save for his chores (which he did anyway, regardless of being told) the resourceful ten year old spent his summer days as he pleased. Typically, Harry meandered 'round Magnolia Road (taking care to stop by December's Wonders store.) Other times, he practiced his spell work (showing no remorse nor pity for Dudley's Dunderhead gang.) And sometimes on rare occasions, he allowed himself a day to relax (under the shade of the trees by the nearby pond in the little park in Little Whinging.)

Today was supposed to be a special day, of course - but not for little Harry. July 31st was like any other day in the week for him - but not today. Today was to be a day of firsts, a day that would begin the change of everything - but he didn't know that yet.

He was about to, though. And little did he know, change was arriving in the form of several steady knocks on the door.

_Knock, knock, knock, knock_.

"Answer the door, Dudley," Vernon exhaled tiredly from his place at the dining table. He looked ashen and gray, like he hadn't had a night's sleep, and his demeanor was disgruntled and dissatisfied.

Dudley looked up from his plate.

"Why me?" He whined. "Make Harry do it."

"Can't do that," Harry replied. "Cooking eggs and bacon, remember?"

"Off with you," Petunia shoved him off. "I can handle this. It's probably another door-to-door salesman. Just tell them were not interested in whatever junk they're trying to sell, then come right back here."

Seeing no alternative choice, Harry shrugged and left for the living room door. He wasn't quite halfway there when the house shook with a _boom_ and a _crash_, and then the door came falling down.

Harry stumbled a step back, and stared.

Standing outside the doorway, looking lost as to what to do, was the giant form of man. Everything about him was huge; the shaggy coat he wore, his back black boots clomping on the floor, and the long shaggy mane obscuring much of his bearded face. He was almost as tall as he was broad, and he might've looked intimidating - if not for the apologetic frown on his face.

"Er...Weren't supposed to happen like that," He muttered.

"Really, Hagrid," An exasperated woman's voice called from behind the fidgeting man, "When I asked you to knock, I did not intend for you to rock the foundations along with it!"

"Er - Sorry, Professor McGonagall," The man scratched his head sheepishly. His frown warped into a smile as he turned to regard the stunned looking boy blinking up at him from halfway down the hall.

"Ah, hello there, Harry! Last I seen yeh, yeh was a baby! Yeh really do look like yer dad...With yer mom's eyes, of course." Staring guiltily at the door knocker still in his hands, he continued, "Eh, about the door..."

Blinking rapidly, Harry muttered, "It's all right..."

"Oh! Oh, good," The man brightened. "Hang on a tic, let me fix that up for ya!"

"Hagrid...," The woman's voice prodded impatiently.

The giant maneuvered his way inside the hall, ducking down to prevent against hitting his head. He straightened up and stepped aside, allowing a tall bespectacled woman in emerald robes to step inside. She was a wearing a dark cloak, and her hair was knotted in a tight bun. Harry rather thought her the very picture of a strict and stern headmistress...

An idea that was dispelled as her severe visage softened at the sight of Hagrid beaming at Harry.

"Good day, Mr. Potter. Might I assume from the wild eyed look on your face that you weren't expecting any guests? My name is Professor Min-"

The woman winced as Vernon roared.

"Boy!"

Understandably with all the commotion, the Dursleys weren't too behind when they scrambled as one into the living room. Vernon and Petunia took one look at their guests and stopped dead in their tracks.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley," McGonagall greeted politely.

"You," Vernon whispered with dilating eyes. He turned his rage on Harry. "You had this planned out, didn't you?"

Harry gave him an incomprehensible stare. Not even his eyes revealed any intent.

"And what exactly was it that I planned out, uncle?"

"This!" Vernon raged, rudely gesturing to their guests.

"And how exactly did a 'stupid, ignorant boy' like me manage to think up such a wild scheme?" Harry automatically asked, "Especially since I don't even know the particulars of what _this_ is?"

"Oi! What's this about '_stupid, ignorant boy_?'" Hagrid stared down at Vernon suspiciously.

As if sensing danger, Professor McGonagall stepped deliberately in front of Hagrid's path.

"Now, now, Hagrid. Let's all have a seat first, shall we?"

Hagrid looked slightly mutinous. With a firm and commanding look, McGonagall managed to convince the giant to take a rest on the couch. The Professor followed suit, commandeering her own seat, and Harry sat on a stool. The Dursleys, not wanting to admit defeat, remained standing.

"Now. I can assure you, Mr. Dursley, that Hagrid and I came here of our own accord. We are not part of any harebrained scheme or conspiracy, or whatever you might think this is. However, we have our reasons to stop by your house. Need I remind you of our Headmaster's accord?"

Vernon was turning purple. He had all the appearances of having swallowed a toad.

"I...I demand you leave this place at once! _Boy,_ _get over here_!"

Vernon quailed under Hagrid's glare; Dudley and Petunia squeaked.

"An' what exactly are ya plannin' ta do if he doesn't, ya great big Muggle?"

"Muggle?" Harry asked from the sidelines.

"Non-magical folk, Harry," The giant explained apologetically. Harry's interest was piqued. The astute McGonagall noticed.

"But you would know all about that, wouldn't you, Mr. Potter?"

Her fears were confirmed as the boy shook his head.

"Have you...Never received this letter?" She tentatively asked, handing him an envelope written across with green ink. Harry recognized it immediately...

"Vernon's been throwing them in the fire. Been doing it for the past few weeks."

McGonagall and Hagrid shared a look.

"So I see," The woman breathed in slowly, eying the Dursley's resignedly. "And I imagine they never told you anything about Hogwar-?"

"Stop!" Vernon interrupted. "I forbid it! I forbid you to-"

McGonagall drew an ebony stick from her robes and incanted something in his general direction. Vernon continued to scream and roar...Silently. His mouth kept moving, but no words were forthcoming.

Ignoring the still fuming Dursley, the tall emerald robed woman turned back to her enigmatic charge.

"Was that...?"

"Yes, Harry. That was magic. And this," Indicating jer smooth polished stick, "Is a wizard's wand."

Harry was understandably stunned, but not for the reasons that the professor thought. _I am not alone_, he thought to himself. Hidden in a secret pocket under his clothes, Harry's hemlock wand pulsed with cool relief against his skin, as if to assure him, "Now we know."

"So...I'm a magician."

She was privately surprised he accepted it so quickly, for someone who didn't know s thing about the wizarding world.

"Not quite, Mr. Potter. Magicians merely play tricks of sleight of hand. What you are is a wizard."

"I think I'd rather be called a magician instead."

McGonagall smiled.

"James would've been proud to hear that. That's exactly the sort of thing your father would've said."

"My father...?" Something briefly flashed in the boy's eyes. Vulnerability.

"And yer mother," Hagrid beamed. "Great wizards, both. They loved you so much..."

"And look where it got them," Petunia butted in unpleasantly. "Lily and her _perfect_ James...I knew they were always trouble, but mother and father wouldn't see. But what could I expect? They were just so _proud_ to have a witch in the family! They had to have _you_, of course, and by and large I knew you'd be just the same. Then they got themselves blown up, and that's the sad story of how we ended up with you!"

And just like that, the gleam went out of Harry's eyes. His face, so placid and polite before, for lack of a better word, twisted. The flicker faded into nonchalance, but not before his guests had seen.

"This certainly answers a few things," He turned his gaze upon the Dursleys, "All this time you lied to me. Unloved, was I? Born to parents of shame? I wonder what else you haven't told me? Wait...," Harry thought back on what she said, "What's this about blown up? Last I heard, you said my parents died in a car crash."

Petunia spluttered and flinched. Hagrid was ready to start an uproar, had McGonagall not intervened.

"No, Mr. Potter. Despite what your relatives have _said_," She almost gritted the last word out, "Your mother and father...Oh, where should I even begin? Every child in our world knows your story..."

"You make it sound like I'm famous," Harry said.

"Believe me, Harry," The giant nodded sadly, "Yeh are. Back in our world - your world, they call you, '_The-Boy-Who-Lived_.' Yeh see, Harry..."

"There was once a brilliant wizard," McGonagall continued where Hagrid began, "Perhaps, the greatest sorcerer of our time. A prodigy, in his own right. He was...For lack of a better description - terrible, but great. His name...We dare not say it. Even to this day, his name strikes fear in the noblest of hearts. You might hear of him referred to as _You-Know-Who_...But for your part in his story, I personally feel you are at least deserving of knowing his name. He called himself - he called himself by the name of Voldemort."

McGonagall took a breath and shuddered. Harry remained silent, expression lacking intent. McGonagall wasn't sure that was a good thing...

"He was a powerful dark wizard - a blackened soul obsessed with anything and everything related to the dark arts - but he was not just a terror all alone. For there were others who believed in his ambitions, witches and wizards who were willing to aid him in his schemes. Some joined him for the sake of self preservation; some inevitably switched allegiances for a taste of power; and yet still more joined for the terrible joy of taking part in the slaughter. It was chaos...It was like everyone had turned against one another. No one could agree to a united front; no one was willing to trust - terrible things just happened, and no one wanted to do a thing. Save, perhaps, to survive.

_You-Know-Who_ clearly had the upper hand on things. People fled away from his wrath, while the resigned simply gave up hope...But not James and Lily. Even in desperate times, they stuck faithfully by each others side. James was a talented wizard, and Lily was such a bright witch. I remember they were...So in love.

I cannot claim to know the entire story, but, regardless, _You-Know-Who_ eventually came for them. Perhaps he regarded them as a threat, or perhaps they refused to kneel by his side, I don't know. All that's been written is how he stormed into the village where your parents lived, some ten years ago. It was October 31st, Halloween, and you were barely one year old. He - he..."

McGonagall was reluctant to continue. Harry felt his heart sink; he already knew what she was trying to say.

"He killed them...Didn't he?" He asked in a slightly garbled tone.

The Professor sniffed.

"Yes. He was a monster, Harry. He killed so many witches and wizards - destroyed so many families - the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts - and in the end he tried to kill you too. You are famous, Harry, because...You are the only one who lived. _You-Know-Who_ tried to kill you, but somehow, something caused his own curse to backfire on him. If you ever wondered about that scar on your forehead, know you - it was the mark left by his last curse. _You-Know-Who_...Disappeared on that night. It wasn't long after that his followers disbanded - some of them _came back_ to our side, so to speak. Regardless of what happened afterward, no one has ever heard from him ever since."

"I was there, ya know, at the scene once it were all over," Hagrid sighed dejectedly. "Found yeh crying alone in the burnin' house. Took yeh out of the ruins meself. Brought yeh over to this lot..."

"Why?" The boy suddenly demanded.

"Dumbledore's orders, of course. Albus Dumbledore, that is. He's the Headmaster of our school. Great man! He...," His eyes shifted uneasily, "Thought you'd be safe here. Told us...It was the best place for you..."

Hagrid didn't exactly look very sure.

_Best place...For me_?

Harry would've asked if the giant had been joking, but he didn't. It wasn't a joke, and even if it was, it wasn't funny. He felt a rush of anger like a dragon coil around his heart. Though his expression remained neutral, Harry was seething inside...And the faint glimmer of happiness he had had for his birthday today had long since fled. His hands, hidden in his cloths, fisted into tight balls of anger.

_Safe_?

What did this great man, as Hagrid esteemed him to be, know about safe? It must've been quite a broad definition, considering all the things he'd been through. Life with the Dursleys wasn't _safe_ - he had a collection of scars to prove it! And what did the great _Albus Dumbledore_ know about what was _best_ for him?! Had he bothered to check on him at all? Did he have any idea about Harry's living arrangements? And was he aware of Harry's childhood, or lack thereof?

Did he even care?

The thought of being _safe_ with his relatives (and to think it had all been for the _best_ for him) made Harry want to laugh...

Or maybe cry. And then maybe scream. And then maybe hurt someone...

_Thought I'd be safe here, did he_?

All the memories of loneliness, hate, and resentment crashed against the sensibilities of his mind. He tasted rain, and felt it swell in him like a rising tide. Unbeknownst to him, the room temperature instantly plunged. Harry felt the flicker of rising anger (flashes of hate, rage, and bitterness)...And then, deliriously, his pent up emotions were doused in a downpour of soothing cool.

"Mr. Potter...Harry, Harry!"

The green eyed wonder woke from his stupor...

To the disconcerting discovery of glittering snowflakes floating, dancing all around his person. The Dursleys watched on in horror...

While McGonagall could only gape, and Hagrid looked on in awe. Harry swayed with the mental drain. It was the strongest he had ever felt. Blinking dazedly at the floating snow stars, Harry could only think of how he was going to emulate the trick again.

"My word," The Professor whispered in amazement. "Mr. Potter, has this ever...?"

"It's a first," Harry shook his head. His wand was pulsing gently once again, reorienting his emotions and his focus. "Weird things have happened to me before, but never like this..."

"Well, Mr. Potter, there certainly isn't any doubt who you are," McGonagall smirked.

Harry flushed at the professor's wry joke. The snow flakes dissipated as the temperature in the room soared.

"Sorry...," The boy rasped.

"Ah, no need to be," Hagrid reassured him warmly, recovering himself. The giant did not appear sorry at all to watch the Dursleys file briskly out of the room.

"Accidental magic is indeed nothing to be sorry for," McGonagall agreed, although she still appeared a little spooked. "Nearly all witches and wizards have had their share of episodes and experiences...I certainly have. But out of curiosity...What brought on this...Outburst?"

"I'm not sure," The ten year old answered tiredly. He did not want to lie to the woman (she reminded him somewhat of December - perhaps a lot more older, a tad bit more stern than snarky, and he thought he could trust her nonetheless), but he didn't feel comfortable giving her the unadulterated truth. Releasing a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, Harry said, "I guess...I just tried to bottle it all in, just as I always have. Didn't realize it was all so much..."

McGonagall took pity on the boy.

"I can't imagine how you must feel..."

"I wouldn't envy me either, Miss...McGonagall, is it?"

The Professor nodded, and then shook her head.

"Forgive me - or rather, forgive us our lack of manners, Mr. Potter, for we are not properly introduced. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, and my colleague is Rubeus Hagrid, Groundskeeper, and Keeper of the Keys. I am an instructor, first and foremost, but I am also the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Magic. We've come here with the intention of extending an invitation to you..."

Smiling broadly, Hagrid asked, "Would yeh like ta hear more?"

"By all means," Harry nodded.

And so Harry listened, and learned a great deal of things. It was a day of firsts, he discovered; a day that would herald change. How much had yet to be determined - but one thing could be foreseen...

Hogwarts School of Magic was never going to be the same.

A/N: Interest seems fairly high, at least it is for me. Nine reviews, three favorites, and fifteen (!) alerts! Kei is extremely pleased. Love it, love it! So people...Whether you love it or hate it, you know the drill! Review, review, review!


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

D/C: Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. It's as simple as that. Harry finally goes to Diagon Alley...

It'd been a foregone conclusion - from the moment that McGonagall had begun detailing the finer points of the Hogwarts experience, the young wizard was enchanted. This was an opportunity like none other; a chance to explore his parents' world - and his own. A chance to delve into a life-long dream...

Of course Harry Potter wanted in.

But being the bright boy that he was, he had had a moment of horrible epiphany, and had nearly turned down the offer over the lack of certain funds. Hagrid had set that notion to rest...

And had inadvertently given Harry some more food for thought. Not only was he famous for something that had ended in his parents' death - he had also been made a tremendously wealthy heir because of it. It was yet another reminder of the one thing he would never have...

He mourned for them privately.

It was five minutes after ten when McGonagall finally rose.

"It would seem everything's in order now. Congratulations, Mr. Potter - we shall be expecting you in the coming term. Although the term begins on September 1st, I would advise against waiting until then to obtain your school supplies. If it is no trouble, and if you have no pressing plans for the day, Hagrid has volunteered to escort you to your shopping."

Harry blinked, but did not forget his manners.

"Y-yes - I mean, that's brilliant," He stammered. "I'd like that very much. Thank you."

"Your thanks is appreciated," The Professor deferred, "But you really ought to thank Mr. Hagrid as well."

Hagrid waved off the praise with an embarrassed grin.

While Harry and the affable giant made their leave, the Professor remained back to stay. Worrying that something was amiss, the ten year old faltered mid-step through the doorway.

"Professor...?" He inquired quietly.

"There's nothing to be worried about, Mr. Potter. I would've liked to escort you myself, but there are other duties I must attend to, I'm afraid. Hagrid, I will see you first thing once you've made your return to the grounds. Mr. Potter, I shall be seeing you once again at the start of the term. And Harry? Regardless of how you choose to spend your day, never forget to enjoy yourself."

McGonagall appraised him with a kind smile.

"Happy birthday."

The boy actually managed a half smile.

Minerva watched her student and colleague leave before she began the task of wandlessly repairing the door. Vernon and Petunia (who'd been cowering just around the corner) looked decidedly relieved. That was, until McGonagall spoke.

"Now, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley," She frowned, rounding on the pair, "I would like nothing better than to make my leave, but my business with your family is far from concluded. For some time now, I couldn't help but notice a little discrepancy, and I would very much like it to be rectified. For the sake of simple honesty...What can you tell me about the cupboard under the stairs?"

Vernon and Petunia gulped. The Professor was positively flaring, and she did not look so patient as she did before. No, she was not happy. _Not happy_.

Not at all.

--

"Um, Hagrid...," Harry ventured, once they'd gone a little a way, "Where exactly are we supposed to go?"

"Oh, to the Leaky Cauldron, of course. From there, we kip over to Diagon Alley. They're in...Er, well..."

"Not close by, I imagine?" The boy helpfully supplied.

"It's in London, but - well, er, no. Quite a ways in London, as a matter of fact," The giant petered off. Luckily, Hagrid's uncertainty was not to last. "But say, there's always the Knight bus!"

"The what?" Harry asked.

"Er, magical transportation, Harry. Hold on a minute, yeh'll see."

The giant began rummaging through his large coat. He was mumbling loudly under his breath, pulling out and replacing a number of random things. Keys, a ball of yarn, and a handful mice appeared and disappeared back into his pockets, before finally he produced a large pink umbrella. Glancing around nervously (doubtlessly assuring himself that they were alone) Hagrid aimed the tip of the umbrella skyward.

There was a whiz and a bang, and before Harry knew it there was a purple double decker bus idling on the street before them.

"I, uh, be grateful if yeh weren't ta mention this to anyone at Hogwarts," Hagrid stated shiftily. "Weren't allowed to use magic."

"I didn't see anything," Harry acquiesced.

A man dressed in a dark maroon uniform greeted them in the bus.

"Hello," Drawled the weedy, acne ridden conductor. He was a decidedly young man fitted into shabby conductor's cloths, and he was reading directly from a cue note. "This is the Knight bus, transportation for the lost wizard or witch. My name's Stan Shunspike, and I shall be your conductor for this morning."

He took one glance at Hagrid, and blinked when his eyes fell on Harry. More specifically, on the right side of his brow.

"Oh."

Harry subconsciously ran his bangs across his scar.

With a brief delay from the conductor (who stared at Harry like he was a celebrity star) the pair of them went lurching through the streets of London, passing people and vehicles at a vertiginously dizzying rate. Hagrid took their blurring surroundings in a stride, while Harry felt a little faint.

"Well, here's our stop," The giant eventually beamed. "Ah, the Leaky Cauldron! Famous place!"

Harry was a little queasy as he got his first look at the pub. It was an old fashioned structure, and there was no denying that it stood out from the rest of its surroundings like a very sore thumb. It certainly looked out place, with the rest of the shopping arcade. And yet, no one seemed to notice. There was a bookshop to the left, and record store to the right - but no one paid any heed to the pub sitting at their center. Harry supposed that it was only meant for he and Hagrid to see.

"Hagrid," Harry coughed as he staggered from the bus, "You really weren't kidding when you said I was famous..."

"Told yeh, didn't I?"

"You did...But I wish I could be a little more discreet..."

The giant stopped to watch Harry rearranging the bangs over his scarred brow. He hadn't had a haircut all summer, and it was just long enough to cover his tell-tale lightning bolt scar. Seeing the giant's astounded expression, the ten year old gave a shrug.

"Can you see it now?" He asked urgently. "Don't want to be recognized...Yet."

Hagrid smiled ruefully, and then he shook his head.

"All right. I'm ready, Hagrid."

Harry followed in Hagrid's wake as he led the way into the pub. The pub was dark and shabby, with a smattering of patrons lounging on crooked tables on the inside. The bartender, an old hunchback of a man, greeted the giant with a grin.

"Oh, hello Hagrid. Wasn't expecting you today! Will it be the usual?"

"Oh, not this time, Tom. On Hogwart's business, yer understand," Hagrid evasively said. The bartender took a gander at Harry...And simply nodded his head. The ten year old was understandably relieved. Tom didn't recognize him for who he was, with a curtain of bangs to cover his scar.

"Taking this boy to buy his school supplies, I see. Don't let me stop you - be on your way. Oh, you are in for a nice surprise, my lad," Tom bowed, "I guarantee it. Have a good day!"

"Seems a bit o' a shame to hide it," Hagrid murmured as they walked out the back of the pub. "But considerin' all that yeh've bin through, I s'pose it weren't too much o' a surprise..."

They were outside once again, facing an enclosed courtyard with a large indomitable wall. The giant started counting bricks as he approached the middle section of the tall and graying wall.

"Now, what was it agin? Three up, two across," He muttered, tapping a sequence of bricks on the wall. "Ah!"

Bit by bit, the bricks began to wriggle and shift, creating a gap as they unraveled themselves. It was all Harry could do not to stare as the gap widened, wider and wider, until they were facing an archway where once there was only a brick wall.

"Come along, Harry," Hagrid grinned. "Welcome to Diagon Alley!"

Commerce was in full swing as families went about their business, shopping and gossiping with a will.

Diagon Alley was practically teeming with the hustle and bustle of a busy morning commune. Guild shops and fashion stores had thrown open their doors, attracting their fair share of the wizarding public. Along the winding streets and thoroughfares, small vendors peddled their goods from under the eves of their tents, exchanging pleasantries with customers and passerby alike.

There were shops selling robes, shops selling knick knacks and other odds and ends, and shops selling a number of things that he could've sworn he had never seen before...Or, (he stared, wide eyed, at a display of Chinese water clocks) at least, he'd _thought_ he'd never seen before...

It was all so much to take in (some many things to see!) but Hagrid did not indulge Harry's curiosity. He had led them straightaway to a snowy white structure that appeared to tower over all.

"Ah, here we are. Gringotts, Wizarding Bank! Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it. With all the wards an' enchantments an' all, I reckon there's no place more secure in our world than Gringotts...Ceptin' Hogwarts, of course. "

Harry nodded mutely as they ascended the white stone steps. Professor McGonagall had already given him a dry but concise description of the Gringotts bank. Essentially, the bank accounted for the major holdings (and the minor ones, as well) of the entire wizarding world, but it was not other wizards who safeguarded these precious accounts. That responsibility was placed in the hands of those who ran the bank; those who were clever enough, and ruthless enough, to be up to the taxing task. They were short as they were clever, with an impatient temperament to match. Harry had a little trouble believing in goblins...

Until that very moment when he met them.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the heavy silver doors, allowing them to pass into an impressive marble hall.

There were numerous elevated counters with Goblins seated on raised stools, weighing coins and counting money, while others were serving witches and wizards with their own banking needs. Several pathways lead away from the main room, leading up to the upper floors, or down to what had to be the vaults.

While Hagrid sorted for the umpteenth time through his pockets, Harry strode automatically to the nearest available counter.

"Hello, sir," He greeted the goblin gently.

The goblin glanced up, staring around in confusion, until his eyes settled on the little boy.

"Ah, and hello to you, Mr..."

"Harry," The boy complied, "Harry Potter."

At the goblin's skeptical look, the boy parted the bangs above his right eye, revealing his thunderstruck scar. The goblin nodded even as Harry brushed the bangs back in order to conceal it.

"Ah. Good day, Mr. Potter. You have finally returned. Now, do you have your key?"

By now, Hagrid had caught up to the counter.

"Oh, give me a moment. Should be right...Here yeh go," The giant said, handing over a golden key. Neither he nor the goblin heeded the manner in which the boy stared after the key.

"Is that...?"

"Your mother and father's," The smiling goblin concluded finally. "Now, Mr. Potter, my name is Hornswaggle, and as your luck would have it, I happen to be the steward of several major vaults, your family's included." Arching an eyebrow, he asked, "Might I assume you are here for a withdrawal?"

"How did you know?" The little boy asked.

"You are eleven years old today, are you not?" Hornswaggle grinned. "Unless the Board of Governors have lowered Hogwarts' age requirements, this ought be your first official year at the school. Is it not?"

"It is," Harry agreed.

"In that case, Mr. Potter..."

"Oh!" Hagrid suddenly interrupted, as if he'd almost forgotten something of great importance, "Er, sorry Harry, sorry Mr. Hornswaggle, but I've got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore...It's about...," Shifting under Harry's guarded glance, he mumbled, "Vault seven hundred thirteen."

The goblin looked slightly irritated but accepted the letter nonetheless. He read it once carefully and blinked.

"All right, very well then. As I am free from my duties at the moment, I shall escort you both to your respective vaults. Come with me."

"Hagrid...," Harry asked as Hornswaggle led them away, "If I might ask...What's in vault seven hundred and thirteen?"

Hagrid shook his head.

"Can't tell ya rightly. It's not fer me ta say, anyway. Hogwart's business. More 'n my jobs worth o' trouble, yeh unnerstand."

Harry liked the giant man, and so he relented.

They boarded the cart (Hagrid didn't seem too eager to get in, though), and descended down the rails into the tunnels leading deep into the heart of Gringotts. Like the Knight bus before them, the rail cart proved to be a wild and bumpy ride (with Harry and Hagrid being jostled about), and halfway through even the giant looked ready to be sick. Left, right, left, right, middle - The ride just never seemed to end. Hornswaggle didn't seem bothered at all, even though he wasn't steering...

They stopped almost six minutes after their descent had begun.

The pair of them stumbled drunkenly out of the cart, with an amused (but not unsympathetic) Hornswaggle following after them.

"You'll get used to it," The goblin assured the young Mr. Potter. "_Maybe_. Hopefully one of these days."

He feigned blissful ignorance of his charge's chagrined face.

"Ah, here we are, Mr. Potter...Vault six hundred and eighty-seven."

Harry blinked as the circular door swung open.

"It's all yours," Hagrid smiled. "Didn't think your parents would jes' leave you with nothing, didja?"

It was hard to read the boy, with his blank face and the torch lights reflected in his eyeglass frames. It would've almost appeared as if he were apathetic to everything around him - if it weren't for the subtle little tremors that were racking his body. Despite his enigmatic response, Hagrid seemed to understand what Harry was thinking, and clapped him gently on the back.

"Thinkin' o' them?"

The boy nodded gently. Hagrid nodded in turn.

"I'm sure yer parents miss yeh, too, Harry."

Harry visibly relaxed. With one last silent prayer to the skies above, Harry joined Hagrid in setting aside several galleons of gold.

After depositing a large number coins into a bottomless money purse (a novelty provided by Hornswaggle himself) the pair of them joined their minder for yet another chaotic ride in the cart.

The hurtling ride to Vault 713 was just as wild and twisting as the one before. Harry and Hagrid spent even more time getting jostled about, and Harry once collided into Hagrid hard enough to produce a muffled thud. Both were looking worse for wear as the rail care drew deeper into the tunnels, gaining speed. They were relieved when the rail cart mercifully slowed, and halted before yet another circular iron door.

Leaving his charges to recover themselves, Hornswaggle stepped up to the vault.

"Vault seven hundred and thirteen," He called out importantly.

Hagrid limped clumsily out of the cart.

"Yeh jes' wait here, Harry, I won't be long..."

Harry didn't doubt that in the least. From his uncomfortable position in the cart, he had an unobstructed view into the entire vault. There was nothing of value in there; nothing but dust and cobwebs, and small grubby package lying on the floor. Just as soon as he had seen it, the little bag disappeared into the confines of Hagrid's coat.

"Prolly best yeh speak o' this to no one, eh, Harry?"

Harry was too fatigued to even nod.

"Right. Back to the infernal cart, then. Prolly shouldn't talk on the way back, either...," Hagrid groaned. Turning a jaundiced eye on Hornswaggle, he asked, "Yeh sure we can't go any slower?"

"Nope," The sadistic goblin grinned.

--

Once he'd combed his bangs back over his brow, Harry escorted a groaning Rubeus Hagrid out of the Gringotts bank. He was casting furtive glances at the giant, who seemed to have taken their ride in the tunnels worse than he had.

"Are you sure you're all right?" He asked with something akin to concern.

"Ugh. Now that yeh mention it," Hagrid winced, "I could really use a pick-me-up at the pub...Always hated them Gringotts carts-"

The giant paused, blinked, and scratched his head sheepishly. Clearly, he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

"If it'll make you feel better, don't let me little old me stop you. I can take care of myself," Harry said confidently, unconsciously patting the pocket where he had hidden his wand.

"Harry-"

"I'll be all right, Hagrid," The boy reassured, "I'll just stick around the shops in this area, while you go have your drink. I won't stray further from this section until you return, I promise."

"Well..."

Hagrid teetered on the edge of hesitancy.

"If it really worries you," Harry continued, "I could just stick to that ice cream parlor across from here. I'll even buy you an ice cream once you return," He said, bouncing his jiggling money purse in his hand.

The giant glanced over at Florean Fortesque's ice cream parlor with a lop sided smile.

"Well, all right. You kin stick to the shops in this section; jes don't go wanderin' off down that sign that sez, 'Knockturn Alley.' Shady place, Knockturn Alley - wouldn't want to get lost down that way. Once yer done with everything, I'll meet ya back here at Florean's. Well, see ya in a bit, Harry."

With an exchange of waves, Hagrid was off.

Some time later (Harry had forgotten to bring a watch) found the boy lounging in the outdoor promenade of Florean Fortesque's Ice Cream Shoppe. Hagrid hadn't returned in some time, and so Harry went ahead and indulged himself. He had completed most of his school shopping, and was biding his time with three scoops of vanilla, topped with hot chocolate and chopped nuts. It was while he was savoring this latest delight when the ceaseless ramblings of a girl drew his attention.

It wasn't like the redhead was making a fuss, or commotion, or anything - she wasn't trying to be obvious either, and she wasn't. She was simply wading through the constant stream of bodies coming in and off the street, searching for something. Searching, and most definitely not succeeding - she had already strode past his table several times before, and for each pass she seemed just a little more angry. She looked a little lost and frustrated - Perhaps more frustrated than anything else.

It bothered him to see others in distress, so Harry decided to help. He stood slowly from his seat, and as the girl was about to pass his table he spoke.

"Hello Miss," He called out softly as the girl rounded past his table. "Is it your first time in Diagon Alley?"

The frazzled young witch started in mid step, turning her soft gray eyes upon the boy's startling greens. It took her a few seconds to recover from the boy's unanticipated (and unexpectedly formal) address.

"Is it that obvious?" She flushed. Harry cocked his head to one side uncomfortably - he hadn't intended to fluster the girl. Hoping to reassure her, the boy tried a slightly different tact.

"Don't worry," Harry enthused, "You're not alone. I wouldn't have known my way through this maze, either, if I hadn't had a little help. More like a lot of help," He amended.

"Your friends inside?" She nodded to the ice cream shop.

"No. He's...Indisposed at the moment. Didn't take the ride at Gringotts too well."

The redhead winced in sympathy.

"He went off to do his own thing. Promised to meet me back here at Floreans."

"Wished I had thought to do something like that," She mumbled. "Are you...A first year? Second year, perhaps?"

"Second year," He said with a straight face.

The girl gave him a glance over.

"Oh..."

"Nah, I'm kidding. First year," He affirmed. He was met a glare that almost made him want to smile.

"Sorry. Couldn't help it."

The girl huffed but offered him to smile.

"Wise guy."

"I try to be. But yes, I'm a first year. And to think before today, I never realized there was such a thing as a wizarding world. I never knew all this actually existed. It's like...Living in a fairy tale..."

"Is it to your liking?"

He paused from a bite of ice cream to consider her question. His eyes glinted slightly as he honestly replied, "It's everything I've ever dreamed."

"I'm glad you feel that way," She said, sitting down. "Some of my friends wished there was...More."

"They are entitled to think however they please," Harry supposed. "Are your friends around, or did you come by with a guardian?"

The redhead heaved a sigh.

"I came with my friends, but I kind of got lost..."

"And your friends didn't notice...Why?"

"They went racing over to Ollivander's for their wands. I tried to follow, but I...," She blushed, "I tripped."

"And you've been looking for them ever since," Harry concluded.

"They said they'd stop by Florean's somewhere along the way...At least they gave me that much direction..."

"Ah. So you're hoping to catch up with them here."

Her nod was all the confirmation he needed.

"Well," Harry said as he took a thoughtful bite of his ice cream, "So long as you're waiting here...Never tried Florean's, I presume?"

The gray eyed girl shook her head.

Harry's lips actually quirked into something close to a half-smile.

"Would you care to try?"

A/N: Fourth chapter done. Story will be updated once every one or two weeks, at the very least. At the most...Not sure. So far, I have a good idea where the story is going to go, so that's good. I have no idea what eye color Susan has...I've read through the stories, and never quite found it. Opted for gray, because I love the color. If it ain't, tell me otherwise and I'll revise (please provide reference from books.) Review, review, review!


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

D/C: Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. It's as simple as that.

She was about his age - albeit an inch taller than himself - with startling gray eyes and lightly tinted cheeks. Her hair flowed in a plait straight down her back, and it was the color of autumn leaves, of fire and liquid gold. She had a bright smile, and a sunny disposition to match.

She was quite talkative, too. Not that Harry Potter minded. It was nice to have someone to talk to - someone who didn't judge him, someone who wasn't afraid - someone with magical talents.

Someone just like him.

The girl was enjoying herself thoroughly, digging in to a six scoop rocky road fudge (and to think she had modestly declined before finally giving in!) while Harry perused his second helping of French Vanilla. They had retreated into the cool parlor of Florean Fortesque's shop, away from the rising heat and a late summer sun.

"So," The redhead girl chirped enthusiastically, once they were settled down and half way through their frozen treats, "Does nothing in this world surprise you? Nothing at all?"

"Oh yes, plenty of it surprises me," The boy divulged with a sagacious nod, "And I'm sure I haven't seen the last of these surprises just yet...I've only just begun to explore the wizarding world, after all. And you...?"

"Me?" The girl inquired between delectable bites of nuts, marshmallow, and creamy chocolate.

"Does this world leave you with a sense of wonder?"

"Sometimes...," She shrugged. "But I've grown rather used to it. I grew up here, after all."

"And yet," He hesitated, "You've never explored Diagon Alley before?"

Unexpectedly, the girl reddened and flushed. She seemed to shrink a little, but not out of fright.

"My aunt...'Volunteers' to do my shopping for me," She said in an embarrassed rush.

Harry was a little alarmed to see her flush down to the roots of her hair.

"Aunt Amelia has always insisted upon it, for as far as I can remember. Sometimes, I can't help but think she'll always see me as her 'little one.' Oh, but don't get me wrong - I love my aunt to death. She just...Worries over me. My friends think she treats me like glass..."

"It just means she cares," He enthused. Noticing her gaze from the corner of his eyes, Harry ignored the momentary sting of self pity and recovered, saying, "But you already know that."

The thoughtful look gave way to a smile. It was a rather rueful look on her face; a sad smile.

"Anyone who knows auntie knows that," She agreed. "And I'm very happy for it. I just wish I could-"

She stopped. Harry cocked his head inquisitively.

"Sorry. I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"It's no consequence," The boy said. "If you don't mind, I'd be happy to listen."

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about, really. My friends have a lot to say about my aunt, but no matter what they think, I'm very proud of her. She's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement."

"I see. So this DMLE...Am I correct to assume they are a policing agency?"

"Law enforcement detail," She clarified for him. "They handle Auror assignments and the conduct of courts."

She took another wistful bite of ice cream before she continued.

"Auntie was a decorated Auror before she was promoted to Department Head. She was one of the best...In fact, she was declared as one of the heroes during the last war. Which reminds me, have you...," The girl tilted her head from side to side, "Heard about the last war?"

The boy hesitated. There were so many questions about the war that he wanted to ask of her, but he couldn't. There was a faraway look in her eyes when she mentioned the war that gave him pause.

"_He killed so many witches and wizards," _He suddenly remembered the austere Professor McGonagall saying._ "Destroyed so many families - the McKinnons, the Bones, the Prewetts_..."

Yes...There was heartache in her eyes - heartache and loss, and in that moment he felt a strange but overwhelming sense of pity. Refusing to reopen a friend's old wounds, Harry gave a brief nod.

"I know enough. I can't claim I understand it all, but...Yes. I _know_ what happened in the last war."

"You certainly seem to know quite a lot," She said, clearly impressed. "Hmm...I wonder..."

The seat creaked as Harry shifted imperceptibly. He felt slightly uncomfortable under the redhead's upraising look, and was idly wondering whether his scar was showing.

"What is it?" He ventured to ask. A little bit of color had crept across his stoic features, but the girl didn't seem to notice.

"I think you'll do well in Ravenclaw," She finally deduced.

"Ravenclaw?" Curiosity overtook him, "And what is this...Ravenclaw?"

The girl paused in mid bite to favor him with an apologetic look.

"Sometimes I forget you're still new to our world. Let me give you a brief overview. You see, Hogwarts has 4 competing houses, each bearing the name of the 4 Hogwarts' founders - Rowena Ravenclaw, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. Each house is separate from the others, and each one is distinguished for a different virtue. Ravenclaws strive for intelligence, while Gryffindors favor the brave. Hufflepuffs revere loyalty, and the Slytherins prize cunning above all."

Harry would've whistled, if it weren't out of his style. Instead, he raised a considering eyebrow, showing that he was impressed with her knowledge.

"Intelligence...That's not a bad virtue to strive for. And which house would you like to be in?"

"Why, Huffepuff of course," She answered brightly. "What did you expect?"

"Well, well, well. I would've put money on Ravenclaw myself," Harry stated in his usual idle tone. Seeing a small frown mar her pretty face, he amended, "But I can see that Hufflepuff suits you as well..."

Maybe it was just a trick of the light, but her eyes seemed to twinkle with his hasty agreement. He did not have time to think much more on it as the lumbering form of one Rubeus Hagrid hove into view. While he'd been gone, the giant had done some shopping for himself, it seemed; his arms were burdened with packages, and he seemed to have a little difficulty crossing the street laden as he was.

"It seems my friend has just arrived," He informed the girl. Turning his attention to the approaching giant, Harry offered what could've been construed as an easy and nonchalant wave. "Hello again, Hagrid. Feeling better now, I hope?"

"Oh, lot's. Lot's better!" The giant grinned. He was about to ask something or other when his eyes fell upon Harry's redheaded companion. "Oh! It seems yeh've made a friend. Hello there!"

"Hello."

The girl waved back with a cheery smile.

"Well...," Hagrid beamed proudly whilst setting down his parcels, "Allow me ta introduce meself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' Keys and Keeper o' the Grounds at Hogwarts. And who might yeh be, Miss...?"

Her small hand practically disappeared as she shook the giant's hand.

"I'm Susan-," Realizing her own folly, the redhead turned to the green eyed wonder, bowing low with a bashful grin, "I'm sorry I never properly introduced myself...I'm Susan Bones."

Harry hesitantly accepted her hand. It was clear from the way he knitted his eyebrows that he was not used to the gesture.

"Hello Susan. I'm...," He thought quickly.

Harry was in a bit of a dilemma. The boy hadn't intended to reveal himself to anyone just yet. Still, he supposed he had only himself to blame - he had been the one who reached out to her first. And as much as he loved to keep his own secrets, Harry Potter was indubitably polite. Not rude, not discourteous - especially not to the ones who didn't deserve it.

Glancing surreptitiously at Susan, the boy made his decision.

Emerald met startling gray.

"I'm someone who became famous for something my parents did. The wizarding world credits me for the act, but I had no part in it - it just wouldn't be reasonable for a baby to have accomplished such an act. You probably know my name - chances are, you might know more about my past than I do. I don't understand it all just yet, and I'm still striving to discover myself..."

"Dramatic, much?" She smiled.

Harry tried to keep his lips pressed together but couldn't repress one of his odd half smiles. Without saying another word, (feeling confident that Hagrid's form was blocking the view from the street) the boy flicked the fringe of winged mocha bangs covering his right eye.

He was not disappointed - the girl took one gander at his brow before her smiling gray eyes snapped up in shock. Harry nonchalantly brushed a finger across his fringe once again, and just as quickly as it had appeared the lightning bolt scar vanished from view and was no more.

"H-Harry..." That was as far as she was able to go, for the moment.

"So now you know."

Those quiet words of admission broke the spell over the girl. Harry watched with no small measure of amusement as words failed her, leaving Susan incapable of speech. Shock, disbelief, and agitation flitted nakedly across her face for a good half minute - and it took a concerted effort on the redhead's part to maintain her sense of restraint and control. Even after she'd managed to compose herself, the girl appeared a little short on breath.

It didn't last long, though. Mortified by her own less than smooth reaction, Susan retreated behind her hands.

"I'm sorry," She rasped through the gaps of her fingers, "It was just such a shock. I couldn't - I didn't...," She sputtered. Not knowing what else to say, the girl hung her head. "You must think I'm nutters now..."

Harry didn't think so, but he didn't let it show. Instead, he baited her.

"...Are you?"

"What?"

"Nutters."

"_No!_" Susan glared, spluttering indignantly. She looked ready to fly off on a harangue - up until she noticed Harry's curiously vague expression. It was an utterly innocuous smile - much too innocuous for the likes of he! "Harry...You were just teasing me, weren't you?"

"I was," He admitted freely.

Susan blinked. She hadn't expected him to be so blunt.

"Why?"

"Despair doesn't suit you," He kindly enthused. "And you weren't uncomfortable with me before you know me, now, were you Susan?"

"No..."

"Then you shouldn't see me any different. I'm still the same person you met before, after all. Yes, I may be famous...But it's not for something I did, I can assure you. More than likely, I'll be a celebrity the moment I walk into Hogwarts. I don't really want to be, though. I just want a normal life," He stated wistfully, eyes gazing at nothing. "I was a little reluctant to tell you my name at first - that much I'll admit. For that, I am sorry. I didn't want you to see _The-Boy-Who-Lived_. I just wanted to be me - Harry. Not the hero, not the savior of the wizarding world; I just wanted to be myself."

Harry chuckled.

"At least, for as long as I can be. Naive, isn't it?"

"Not naive," Susan mused, "Some people flaunt their fame and choose to exploit it for themselves. I get the feeling that you wish to earn your merits, to prove yourself. No, you are not naive - maybe noble."

It was perhaps the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him to date. Harry abruptly turned his face away to hide his pleased expression. He quickly comported himself when he noticed Hagrid standing by as his one man audience.

"Oh, right," The boy flushed, bowing his head. "I...Do apologize for leaving you hanging, Hagrid. Sorry; for a minute there, I kind of forgot you were standing there at all."

The giant shook his shaggy head.

" 'S alright. It's nice havin' fun with friends. Wouldn't ha' dreamed of interferin.' "

"Well, in any case," Harry breezed on, "I'm glad to hear you're feeling better now. I'm certain you'll be wanting something from Florean's. So what will it be, Hagrid? Neopolitan swirl? Pecan butter? Strawberry cheesecake, perhaps? All the flavors in the world, at your fingertips..."

Hagrid looked particularly eager at the mention of Pecan butter ice cream, but much to his own regret the giant had to guiltily decline.

"Mebbe some other time, Harry. I would ha' been glad ta join yeh and Susan, but uh, er...Somethin' came up, an'..."

Hagrid was sheepishly patting one of his coat pockets. Noticing the grubby little package poking from his pocket, Harry nodded.

"I see. School business, of course." Heaving a wistful little sigh, the boy hung his head at his newest acquaintance (and possible first school friend.) "I hate to cut this so short Susan, but it seems I've better get going now. Hagrid's expected back at Hogwarts for urgent business."

"Oh." Susan said.

Harry felt a strange compulsion to reassure her.

"But hey. You'll be seeing me again in month. You'll find me one way or another...Or I'll find you. By the end of the year you might even be tired of seeing my face."

Harry feigned a pensive look, tilting his head a little while rubbing his chin. Susan giggled at his uncharacteristic performance.

"Hmm...Yes, can't have that, now, can we? Here's hoping that doesn't happen," He said, raising his ice cream bowl in mockery of a toast. Susan raised her own bowl, much to his surprise. "All kidding aside...Enjoy the rest of your evening, and have a pleasant year, Susan. I'll see you on the first of September."

Although she was plainly disappointed to see him leave, Susan seemed cheered by his attempt at humor.

"See you on the Hogwart's Express, and thank you for being there to brighten my day. It was nice to meet the real you, Harry."

"Take care. And Susan?"

"Hmm?"

"Good luck in Hufflepuff. And even, if for some bizarre reason, you don't end up in that house...Don't ever change."

"Same goes to you, Harry."

The green eyed wonder nodded and smiled.

Susan stood up as Harry and his giant companion turned to leave, and continued to watch after them until they were both lost to the crowd.

A/N: I hope this was as believable to you as it was for me. Loosely based on the first time I met someone I didn't know would become important to me. We didn't even learn each other's names until the second time we met...Good memories. I hope you enjoyed this as much as I did. Next chapter: onto the Express, and onto the Sorting! (Hopefully the Express won't take the whole dang chapter length...) Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Interest still going strong...Alert list blossomed almost twice with one chapter! K is content.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

D/C: Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. It's as simple as that.

It was the best birthday ever, and not just because of the magnificent snowy white owl Hagrid had secretly bought for him. He had found the truth about his parents, discovered several possible friends, and most importantly of all he had learned that he was not indeed alone. The return ride from the Knight Bus wasn't so bad, and as it turned out, things were looking up for the month of August. The Dursleys had been subdued upon his arrival from Diagon Alley, and were (much to his shock) only too happy to welcome him up to his new room.

It was in fact Dudley's old flat, a large unused room stacked with his cousin's broken toys and long forgotten things. The room was awfully cluttered, and was in desperate need of a good cleaning - but none of it phased Harry Potter in the least. The dust bunnies weren't a bother, and the discards gave him plenty to practice with. At least until the end of summer, he had a surplus of skeet.

In addition to his new room, Harry had an actual bed, a desk, and more than enough space to move about. It was a pleasant change compared to the cramped quarters of his cupboard, and no matter how untidy his room was, he liked it.

As only he could expect, somethings just never changed. Vernon still vowed to reassert his authority over his own house, and as his first act of retribution tried to lock Harry's school supplies in the cupboard (along with Hedwig, Harry's companionable new owl.) Suffice it to say, the boy didn't take his Uncle's subversion too well. Although he had conjured snowflakes by accident only that day before, Harry had remembered how the sensation had _felt_. With the aid of his wand, he was able to reproduce the effects - only now, with greater results. He had only intended to threaten his uncle, and it showed - in place of fragile snowflakes, he had formed slivers of razor shards. He didn't do anymore than watch the icicles swirl around his uncle, but the message had been received. Vernon let him drag his valuables up to his room, and the Dursleys had stayed clear from him ever since.

For the entirety of the month of August, Harry was left to his own devices - left to read his spell books, left to practice magic with and without his wand - and before long the summer season had reached its inevitable end. September 1st was just around the corner...

Never before had Harry felt so ready.

--

According to Harry's Hogwarts letter, he needed to set off to King's Cross Station to catch the 11 o' clock engine departing for Hogwarts. The instructions were simple enough to follow, and easy to understand...

But it was there, lost somewhere in the middle of the packed train station where Harry met his first snag.

Glancing up from the train schedule and staring at the white marker signs overhead, Harry came to a solid conclusion.

"There is no Platform Nine and Three Quarters."

At least, no Platform Nine and Three Quarters that he could see. There was a Platform Nine, and there was a Platform Ten, but there was nothing in between - nothing but a solid diving barrier separating the two neighboring platforms. He was glad that time was not of the essence - due to the crazy machination known as the Knight Bus, Harry had arrived a full hour before the scheduled time. He had an excess of forty-five minutes to figure out this latest conundrum.

It was a lot of time for one task, even in his book, but Harry didn't feel inclined to waste it. Dragging his school trunk behind him, Harry drew himself forward to inspect the dividing barrier.

To an outside observer, the solid gray wall looked exactly that; solid and unyielding. Harry was not just an outside observer - he was never content to simply rely on sight. He outstretched his hand to the solid surface, and stared as his fingers pushed against the wall. The wall rippled. Casting his eyes about to ascertain that no one was watching, Harry jabbed his hand forward once again to the same effect - his entire hand had vanished into the wall.

"You're not all that you seem," He commented.

Harry strode resolutely through the barrier, trunk and all, and vanished from sight. Darkness obscured his vision, and then there was light.

Blinking furiously against the radiance of the sun, Harry caught sight of a heartening sign hanging over a wrought iron archway. ' Platform Nine and Three Quarters,' it read, and overhead was yet another sign that declared, 'Hogwarts Express, 11 o' clock.' Sure enough, waiting on the tracks was a magnificent scarlet steam engine, burdened with several long carriages that were occupied by countless droves of students. Families stood by on the platform, and well wishers gave their best to the students. Platform Nine and Three Quarters was abuzz with activity...

No one suspected the lone figure of the boy meandering in their midst, unseen and unnoticed by all.

With only a cursory nod to the conductor, the boy stepped onto the train to spot himself his very own compartment. Peering surreptitiously through compartment doors, Harry fought his way through unruly mobs of youngster and past the disapproving eyes of the older years. Not once in his quest for a remote compartment did he chance a glimpse of the familiar shade of red and gray.

Harry toured just about the entire train before he found accommodations suited to his taste. It was clearly empty, facing away from the sun, and well out of the way of the general hubbub that seemed to follow him through the train. His owl seemed to approve of it; Hedwig made several sounds of contentment as he tucked her cage into the cool compartment.

"Have you heard?" A muted voice echoed. "They say Harry Potter's on the train!"

Harry froze in the middle of the doorway, listening in on the conversation filtering in from further down the hall.

"Is he really?" A skeptical voice asked. "I've read all about him, of course..."

"Who?" A clueless sounding individual pressed.

"The-Boy-Who-Lived!" Someone else exclaimed excitedly.

Harry's fingers twitched as he grasped the door handle. He pretended to have trouble lugging his trunk into the compartment.

"Well, er - he's supposed to be on this train," A fourth voice amended doubtfully.

"Hmm...He would be of age," The skeptical voice confirmed. "Have you been around the train yet?"

"Well, yeah. But all we ever get are rumors..."

"And as far as I can tell he's not here..."

"Maybe he hasn't arrived yet?" The excited voice answered hopefully.

The rest of the conversation was lost as the compartment door clicked closed.

They'd all figure it out eventually, he supposed. But until then he would bide his time in peace. He browsed patiently through his luggage and came up with a potions book just as the train horn blew. Shortly thereafter, the engine gave a hiss and the train started to move.

Harry was well ahead in his potions text when the compartment door slid open.

"May I help you?" He asked, as three boys entered the compartment. A pale blonde boy with a pointed face entered first, flanked by two thickset companions who reminded Harry somewhat of the members of Dudley's gang. Waiting in the hallway were to two girls. One was an aristocratic blonde with sharp, calculating eyes. The other was a raven brunette with a rather pinched and irritated look about her face.

The pale blond boy, apparently their ringleader, purposefully ignored Harry's presence.

"Oh ho, what have we here? An empty compartment! How lucky for us. Boy's, let's clear this," He indicated Harry, "Out and make ourselves-"

Harry was not clearing out for anyone. With a patient sigh, he stood up.

"I'm sorry, I might forgive your stupidity if you were actually blind," He interrupted the pompous blond. His eyes bore not the least bit of emotion as he stared into the other's eyes. "Or did your parents not teach you manners? Perhaps you are ignorant and simply do not know how to count?"

Silence ensued in the hall.

The gray eyed blond blinked, bewildered, while his heavy set companions stared stupidly at the boy before them. The sharp eyed blonde and the black haired harpy were shooting each other looks of disbelief.

"You should probably go. You don't seem to have anything interesting to say."

"This is our compartment," The black haired girl hissed.

The look lost much of its potency under Harry's hollow and unaffected stare. It was like staring into a green abyss. Nothing was betrayed by those eyes.

"Is it now?" The green eyed wonder glanced idly about. "I don't see a placard with your names on it."

The blond boy sniffed.

"Perhaps you are just ignorant of your betters. This here is Vincent Crabbe, and this is Gregory Goyle," He gestured to his flanking guards. Standing regally to his full height, he added, "And I am Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"Pansy Parkinson," The harpy spat. Her companion was not so quick to offer her name.

"And who are you?" The blonde ice princess asked instead. Her arctic blue eyes regarded him as one might a potential threat. "I'll tell you my name if you'll tell me yours."

Harry declined the offer with a nonchalant shrug.

"I never asked for any of your names, but I thank you nonetheless for offering that courtesy. Normally, it is polite to introduce oneself afterwards, but I am not at all obliged to welcome your acquaintance. That being said, I trust our business here is concluded. Good day to you all - I'm sorry I can't entertain you any further - but I'm sure you have better things to do. I have a little bit of reading to catch up on."

Four of the five interlopers were irked, clearly scandalized by Harry's impassive dismissal. The ice princess simply gave a noncommittal shrug.

"A little bit of advice. I'd be a little more careful if I were you," Draco's eyes narrowed intently. "You don't want to make enemies this early into the year. Who knows? You might end up in our house..."

"Duly noted and duly ignored," Harry rejoined, unnerving his audience even further with his preternatural calm. "If you have nothing more meaningful to say, I kindly ask you to leave." Unbeknownst to all, Harry kept an expectant hold on his wand hidden beneath his robes. "Fair warning - I don't ask twice."

Whatever Malfoy had planned in response was cut off by a prim, no-nonsense voice of an older year.

"What is going on here?" Asked the tall redhead boy. He wore immaculate black robes and bore a silver badge pinned to his breast.

"Nothing that concerns you," Pansy snootily replied.

The authoritative looking redhead drew himself up importantly.

"Excuse me, but I am a prefect," He said, proudly displaying his silver badge. "You would do well to behave and mind your attitude. Now, I ask again - what is going on here? You are all blocking the hall."

Malfoy sized up the prefect with a contemptuous stare.

"Don't worry about it, _Weasley_. We were just leaving. Come on, Crabbe, Goyle. Let's find another compartment...This one reeks of mudbloods and blood traitors."

The prefect stiffened as the five interlopers left. He left the compartment soon after in a high bad humor.

"Hmm. No decency," Harry muttered as he shut the compartment door. In her cage, Hedwig gave a squeak and a bark in agreement. The boy stayed within the confines of his compartment for the duration of the ride. He did not put it past Malfoy and his gang not to disrupt his belongings if he left them behind to explore.

The rest of the train ride past by uneventfully with the boy immersed in his reading as students continued to walk (and some cases run) past his compartment door. He caught more snatches of conversation - doubtful rumors concerning his persona, bits and pieces of wizarding news, and matters concerning Hogwarts - something about a sorting hat. The boy listened to it all, isolating topics of interest from whatever drivel he had heard. He had an even more defined picture of the wizarding world by the time the conductor's announcement echoed through the train.

"We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time," The voice bellowed. Only now did Harry vaguely realize how dark it was outside. "Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

"See you in a bit, Hedwig," Harry said before exiting the compartment. Five minutes later, the train came to a stop.

The first thing Harry heard once he stepped off onto the waiting platform was the voice of one Rubeus Hagrid.

"Firs' years! Firs' years, this way! C'mon 'n follow me! Firs' years!"

Hagrid stopped his bellowing to wink at Harry. The giant's wink turned to a broad smile as a blur of red and gray approached Harry from behind. A pair of soft hands were suddenly blocking Harry's vision.

"So," A light feminine voice cajoled into his ear, "Still playing it mum, I see. I haven't told anyone yet - not even my aunt - so don't worry, Harry. That little secret of yours is still between you and me."

Gently prying the fingers away from his eyes, Harry turned to the welcoming countenance of a grinning Susan Bones.

"And a good evening to you too, Susan," He said with one his private half-smiles. The smile was just as detached as it had been a month before - but the little brightness it lent to his face was unmistakable. "What have you been up to this summer?"

"Oh a little this, a little that," She alluded innocently. "Aunty let me practice some of the standard spells with her wand...No point getting me in trouble for using my wand when I'm not supposed to."

"Why's that?" Harry asked as Hagrid began leading them off.

"All the wands from Ollivander's have a tracking charm that allows the Ministry to know when an underage wizard is performing magic. Aunt Amelia said that the charm only applies to those under the age of seventeen."

"Really?" Harry asked. He was glad he hadn't gone to Ollivander's for a second wand. "But wait a minute...What of wandless magic?"

"For the most part, wandless magic is undetectable...But you shouldn't worry about that."

"Why ever not?"

Susan winked.

"Only an uncommonly powerful witch or wizard is able to perform wandless magic of any type, and that doesn't include the little random occurrences that go along with accidental magic. Just so you know, even those who are capable of wandless magic can't use it to the extreme - not without exhausting themselves. It's why we have wands - to focus our abilities, and draw from a source other than ourselves."

Harry nodded impassively, examining his hands.

"Uncommonly powerful, you say...? I see."

"Are you nervous?" She asked abruptly.

"No," He answered, perhaps a little too quickly. "You?"

"About the Sorting? Not really," Susan said as they, along with an innumerable number of first years, followed Hagrid down a steep incline to the edge of a big black lake. There were row upon row of little boats waiting for them along the shore. "You shouldn't be either. Aunty says it won't be anything complicated..."

"I heard something about a Sorting Hat," Harry said.

"Aunty did say something about a hat," She mused, "She wouldn't exactly say what it was, only not to worry..."

They continued to chat over the din of Hagrid's instructions.

"Oi, oi! No overcrowding! No more'n four to a boat!"

Once Harry had piled onto the boat (along with Susan and two others he did not know - a nervous redheaded boy and a bushy haired girl) Hagrid began asking around whether everyone had settled in. With a roar of "Forward!" the little boats were off. It wasn't too long as the boats skimmed across the lake before the first years chanced their first glimpse of a grand castle towering atop a mountain peak.

The boats stopped at an underground harbor, and it was up the flight of stone steps where they were greeted upon by a tall imposing witch dressed in her usual green robes.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.

With a brief nod of thanks (and a gentle look in Harry's direction) Professor McGonagall escorted the first year students into the antechamber leading into the castle's Great Hall. They stopped just in front of two large imposing doors.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," The good Professor intoned. "I am deputy headmistress Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor house. The start-of-the-term banquet shall be beginning shortly, and if you will but wait a moment, I will be taking you all to be sorted to your house. The sorting ceremony has been a long standing tradition in Hogwarts, and it is of great importance for, while you are here, your house will be like your family behind these walls - they will look after you, as you will look after them. Your triumphs will gain your house points...Any rule breaking, and your house will lose those points. Wherever you end up in, I hope each and everyone of you will be a credit to your house. When the doors open you will walk to the front of the hall, where you will be sorted. Once you have been sorted you shall sit with your respective house. Now..."

The doors swung open.

"Form a line," McGonagall instructed, "And follow me."

Harry strode silently into the Great Hall, followed closely by Susan and the other first year students. It was a beautiful room, as grand as an ancient ballroom, bedecked with thousands of glowing candles floating in midair. Five long tables were situated about its breadth, four of which were represented by its own unique banner - one table bravely beheld gold and orange; another a gentle shade of yellow, black, and gray; a third proudly displayed the colors of blue and bronze; and the last table stood apart from them all with silver, white, and green. The fifth table was situated at the top of the hall - with its gold podium and high back seats, the High Table was obviously meant for the teachers and the rest of the school staff.

He almost missed the small four legged stool beside the podium. He did not miss the presence of the pointy black hat. It was hard not to - the Sorting Hat was rocking too and fro as it sang a school ditty.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" A redheaded youth up front gushed in relief. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll!"

Susan bit back a snigger, while Harry simply winked.

"When I call your name you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Professor McGonagall instructed once more as she unveiled a ridiculously long scroll of parchment.

"Abbot, Hannah."

Susan beamed at the blushing blonde, who smiled back with a hearty wave before running up to the hat.

"Friend of yours, is she?" Harry mused.

"My best," Susan agreed. "We were always together when we were young. We were sitting in the same compartment today. She understood when I said I had to leave to find my _other_ friend...Sort of. You won't believe how much she teased me when I wouldn't reveal who you were."

Hannah had not sat down long when the hat boomed, "Hufflepuff!" A large cheer ensued from the right side of the room, where a banner of yellow and blue hung overhead.

"Bones, Susan."

The young Bones heiress sent Harry a discreet smile as she stepped forward to accept the hat. A minute later the hat soundly declared, "Hufflepuff!" Susan took off to join her smirking best friend at the Hufflepuff table. Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable to note the way Hannah kept glancing from him to a red faced Susan and back.

He feigned ignorance as the blonde cheekily waved in his direction.

"I wonder if it that hat takes a longer time with the difficulty of the choice?" Someone asked a dark skinned boy with refined features and an everlasting frown.

"It certainly seems that way," The other boy mused.

"Boot, Terry."

The first speaker shrugged and made his way over to the hat.

"Ravenclaw!" The Hat declared.

Terry was joined by one Mandy Brocklehurst into the wings of the Ravenclaws, while Lavender Brown proudly stood as the first Gryffindor. A stout girl by the name of Millicent Bulstrode and the thickset boy identified as Vincent Crabbe joined the regal ranks of Slytherin House. Michael Crawford took a round of applause from Ravenclaw, while Justin Finch-Fletchley modestly joined the other Hufflepuffs.

On and on it went. Seamus Finnigan and Hermoine Granger departed soon after for the Lion's Den. Harry occupied his time unseen at the back of the unsorted group, performing exaggerated acts of boredom. Judging from the titters from the Hufflepuff table, Susan was kept thoroughly amused.

"Greengrass, Daphne," McGonagall called.

The aristocratic blonde Harry had met on the train sauntered briskly up to the stool. She vanished amidst the sea of Slytherin's silver and greens.

A nervous youth by the name of Neville Longbottom became a Gryffindor, while Ernie MacMillan took a bow with the Hufflepuffs.

"Malfoy, Draco."

The hat hadn't quite touched his head when it screamed, "Slytherin!"

The list of students was getting steadily shorter and shorter; more than the half the list in McGonagall's hands was dragging across the marble floor. Inevitably, Harry's name came to the fore.

"Potter, Harry," Professor McGonagall called.

Whispers broke out in the entire Great Hall.

"The-Boy-Who-Lived is _here_?"

"I thought it was only a rumor."

"How could we not have seen him...?"

Several hundreds of seats creaked in unison as students craned their necks in search of the evasive boy. Harry listened carefully to what was being said. Not all of it sounded very comforting in the least. Feeling oddly apprehensive (why was he so nervous?), Harry took a step forward.

All eyes shifted upon him.

Ignoring the shout of exclamation from the Slytherin table, Harry strode silently up to the front of the hall. His gaze wandered from the Sorting at to the faces seated at the High Table. He spotted Hagrid near the end of one side. The giant offered him a supportive thumbs up in passing. His neighbor, a tiny little wizard with an ever present smile, imparted a respectful nod. A man in a purple turban seemed to quail under his gaze, and the greasy haired professor conversing with him narrowed his eyes and glared.

It was the aged wizard seated in the large gold seat in the middle who drew Harry's attention. Even though he had never clapped eyes on the man's half moon spectacles, his long silvery beard, or twinkling grandfatherly gaze, Harry had a strong suspicion that this man was the great Albus Dumbledore.

The man smiled benevolently, raising his cup in acknowledgment. Just as he had the other professors who had greeted him, Harry answered back with a bow. It was an imperceptibly stiff gesture, though.

"Mr. Potter, if you'll please," Professor McGonagall urged.

Needing no further prompting, the boy accepted the hat and put it on. He felt a bizarre pins-and-needles sensation crawl up his neck the moment the brim fell over his head.

_"Let's get to it then,"_ A voice echoed in his mind. _"Hmm, yes...You are gifted, there's no denying that, and talented - oh, are you talented! But you wish to keep it under lock and key - don't worry, child - for I will not say a word. You seek to prove yourself, to overthrow the fame you feel is undeserved - but not to your peers - not to those who see you as the moniker and nothing else. You are no stranger to loneliness, nor cruelty - you have gained strength and persevered through torment, and you would covet your privacy with seclusion as your shield. And yet, you would willingly allow friends to slip past your guard, and offer them a chance to see who you are within. Fearlessness abounds in your heart - so much so, that you would refuse to allow morals to stand between you and the things you love._

_Yes. Very difficult. You, young sir, are a paradox unto yourself. Rather than center your life by one virtue, you would adhere to them all. You would gain loyalty in Hufflepuff and prestige amidst the Gryffindors. But you have the potential to achieve new heights with Ravenclaw, and you could dominate as a force of nature amongst the Slytherins - it's all here in you head. What say you?"_

"_Are you leaving that choice to me?_" Harry asked with a detached sort of interest. "_No, that can't be it...That would defeat the purpose of having a Sorting Ceremony in the first place._"

_"It would indeed,"_ The hat concurred. _"The last say is mine to make, but I consider all angles...Much as you have for much of your life. Your qualities are an important factor in my decision, but they do not determine who you are-"_

"_Because they don't always reflect our character. Is that what you were about to say?_"

Harry basked in the hat's moment silence.

_"And what makes you think that...?"_

"_It was an educated guess,_" He innocently put in.

He felt rather than saw the hat nod its approval.

_"How astute. A good actor, too. You seem to have a fair grasp on the value of subtlety. It seems your experiences have taught you well. Yes, I think I have a good idea where to put you..."_

"_Surprise me,_" Harry challenged with a sardonic smile.

Never one to disappoint, the hat obliged.

"Slytherin!"

Silence filled the Great Hall. There was a dull thud as the roll of parchment fell out of McGonagall's hands. Sound returned to the Great Hall...

All was chaos.

A/N: Ravenclaw was this close to becoming Harry's sorted house, but alas, Slytherin it is. I presume some of you, although disappointed, might have expected that. It is the house I do believe this Harry deserves to be in...And for good reason, especially in the later arcs of the Harry Potter continuum. That's the only clue I'm going to tell you guys concerning my plans for the future...

Damn longest chapter I've done in quite some time. Thank you, dear reader. Now that you're here, you know what do...Review!


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

D/C: Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. It's as simple as that.

Sometime After the Start of the Term Feast: Headmaster's Office

Something in Albus Dumbledore's bones had told him it was not going to be a very quiet night, and yet again his intuition had not been proven wrong. Sitting in his grand office, surrounded by whirling gadgets, whistling devices, and other curious things, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looked to be the picture of calm...

A calm that, evidently, none of his esteemed colleagues shared.

"Mr. Dumbledore sir, what could this mean...?"

"Obviously, this must be a joke," Potions Master Severus Snape flatly said.

"That is not what Hagrid meant," Transfiguration Professor Minerva McGonagall heatedly said.

"Oh? What is that now?" Snape asked with an inquiring brow. "Were the both of you not disappointed when Potter did not end up in your esteemed house?"

Groundskeeper Hagrid stared unhappily at the floor; McGonagall's eyes simply narrowed.

"I would indeed be lying if I were to say that I was not," The tall black haired witch affirmed, "But my expectations are not at issue, nor are they relevant at this point in time. Mr. Potter is not his father, Severus-"

"Oh, but how I beg to differ," The Potions Professor interrupted. "He is certainly James Potter in miniature - no doubt just as arrogant-"

"Arrogant?!" Hagrid roared.

"-Thinking the world revolves around himself. In any case, I will not abide to have a Potter under my wing - son of a man with delusions of grandeur."

The diminutive Charms Professor, Filius Flitck, stared aghast.

"Severus, surely you can not be thinking of begrudging the boy for the actions of his father? I am well aware of the animosity you had towards James, but to redirect it to his son-!"

"That is simply barbaric," The stout Herbology Professor, Pomona Sprout, chipped in. "Although it was a surprise for me as much as it was for the everyone else, I can honestly say that Mr. Potter does not deserve the ire you seem so determined to have towards him."

"Speaking of barbaric, what of your wayward student? What was her name again...Susan Bones?"

Professor Sprout spluttered.

"I - I did not condone her course of action this night, but I do understand how she felt from the heart. Perhaps her reaction was extreme, but the Weasley boy's outburst was as equally uncalled for and unjust. 'Scarheaded traitor' isn't exactly the sort of comment I'd appreciate to hear others call my friends."

"So, Potter actually has a friend...?"

"Oh, don't you even think about _that_, Severus!" The stout professor growled, jumping out of her seat. "If you so much as threaten my student or Mr. Potter for being friends, I promise you I will-"

"Calm yourself, Pomona. I'm sure Professor Snape had no intention of doing that."

Professor Snape fidgeted slightly under the Headmaster's gaze.

"Headmaster," Hagrid began once more uncertainly, "I'm not too certain he were meant for Slytherin House-"

"I concur," Snape conceded.

"-But not fer the reasons yeh might think," The giant quickly said, restraining the urge to growl. "Yeh saw the other students - yeh heard all the names! Almos' all o' them went up in revolt! None o' them know Harry - not like Professor McGonogall, or Miss Susan, or I do. It's jes not right! Harry don' deserve that sort o' treatment..."

"I must agree," Flitwick admitted.

"And I expect you'd like to put him on a pedestal, glorify the world with his celebrity presence...?"

Hagrid turned a nasty shade of red. He had to be restrained from walloping the snarky professor in the face.

"Perhaps he should be resorted?" The Potions Professor mused (ignoring the instantaneous glares he was receiving from all around.)

The Headmaster regretfully shook his head.

"You know the laws, Severus, and you know the decision of the Sorting Hat is absolute. Not even I have the power to change what it has decreed - Harry Potter shall remain in Slytherin House."

"Pity," Snape shrugged. "It's only too bad Potter won't reach his full potential in my house."

"Severus," Dumbledore warned.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" McGonagall interrupted with darkening eyes.

"Whatever you think it means," The professor coolly replied.

This time, Hagrid and McGonagall snapped.

All further debate deteriorated into a spat of yells. The Headmaster knew nothing was going to be achieved during this teacher's meeting, and deep down inside he felt resigned. If this night was a portent of anything, then this was going to be a long and tumultuous year...

--

In The Mean Time: Hufflepuff Dorms, First Year's - Girl's Wing...

"Susan...?" Her blonde best friend began hesitantly.

"I can't believe them," The redhead fumed, shoulders stiff with vexation. She was making quite a spectacle of herself, unpacking the contents of her trunk with unnecessary violence and force. "First they worshipped him as the savior of our world - and now that he's in Slytherin they treat him as the villain. What right do they have calling him a traitor?!"

Hannah Abbott winced from behind the bed curtains as her best friend proceeded to slam objects across the nearest table top. None of the other girls sharing their dormitory dared to show their faces and make a target of themselves - not after the Weasley boy foolishly proclaimed the "_scar-head_" a "_traitor_." Susan Bones had whipped out her wand and hexed the boy silly, breaking several school rules and a record - fifty points from Hufflepuff _**and**_ detention with her Head of House - all before the school term had begun! The older years of Hufflepuff House would've been furious had they not bore witness to the redhead's wrath...

It wasn't anything Hannah hadn't already seen, having been childhood friends with her from the start - but it'd left quite the impression on everyone else! The teacher's had gone agog, and even the unflappable Harry Potter had looked shocked - or had he been pleased? She didn't really know - but in any case, people had noticed, and now there would be plenty of whispers in the hall.

No doubt they would become the locus of interest for several weeks to come - Harry and Susan, that was. Harry for being a Slytherin, and Susan for being the Hufflepuff who defended him. The petite blonde could only imagine the things she'd hear from the grapevine - of gossip and speculation, a great deal of it untrue. She had already heard a little rumor about a childhood crush - all utter rubbish, as far as Hannah knew, and she knew a lot.

The Susan she grew up with was not an impractical girl - she would not have reacted as she did to such a baseless thing as a petty little crush. No, the Susan she knew was loyal to a fault - and fiercely so for her friends. It was not merely a question of who Harry was to the young Heiress of Bones.

Rather, it was a question of-

"How long?"

And when?

Susan paused long enough from her trunk to regard her inquisitive best friend, who was laying upside on her own bed.

"How long, what?" The redhead calmly asked, hoping against hope that it wasn't about _that_.

"How long have you been..."

That was as far as Hannah ever got before her friend intervened.

"Oh, God," Susan swore in exasperation, "Tell me it hasn't gotten to you too..."

"I'm not going on about the stupid crush," The blonde lazily drawled. "I was asking you how long you knew him...And when and where. You know I don't believe all those silly rumors, right?"

"Oh? Then what were all those pointed looks you kept giving us, hmm?" The redhead shot back in a dry and sarcastic tone. "Was that simply you being you, or did I just imagine all of that?"

Hannah sniffed.

"Nearly eleven years of friendship and this is how you receive me - with doubt. Humph! Don't talk to me."

The blonde made a show of turning her back on her friend. Her shoulders were rigid, her head held up high - but it was not an entirely convincing act. The blonde kept shooting quick glances over her shoulder, betraying the not-so-subtle upturn of a pink lipped smile.

"You're smiling," The redhead declared in a sing song tone.

"No I'm not," Her friend sang back. "Now don't talk to me, don't talk to me!"

"If you insist," Susan shrugged, turning away to unpack her trunk. She did not wait long when a pink throw pillow came flying at her head. "My, my same old Hannah - petulant to the very end."

"It's not like you want me to ever change," The blonde simpered, sitting up to undo the braids of her honey blonde hair. "And besides, isn't it the duty of the best friend to be incredibly nosey? Especially when it comes to the mysterious boyfriend whom even I knew nothing of, huh?"

A frown momentarily eclipsed Susan's smile.

"We're eleven years old, Hannah - not seventeen. And he's not my boyfriend...," She added quickly.

"Yet," The blonde retorted in reply. "Madam Bones Potter...Yes, that has a nice ring to it..."

"You make it sound like he's marrying my aunt," Deadpanned the girl. "I don't want to dream about that, please..."

"Okay...," Hannah agreed. "I'll quit talking...But only if you quit stalling. Now spill - I want to hear exactly how you became friends with Harry Potter. Out of the simple concern of being your best friend, of course."

"...And not out of concern that he's in Slytherin?" Susan asked.

"Well, I...," Hannah hemmed and hawed, "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised. Weren't you?"

"A bit. I thought he might end up in a Ravenclaw."

"Were you disappointed?" Hannah pressed.

She was rewarded with a withering look.

"Of course not," The redhead glared. "Harry is still Harry, whether he is in Slytherin or not. And regardless of what everyone else might think, there's nothing they could do make me change my mind."

A pause.

"He must've made quite the impression on you," The petite blonde intoned seriously. "You are so much like your aunt - loyal, steadfast, and caring..."

Susan flushed - she looked distinctly pleased.

"...Just not as old or cantankerous. Maybe a bit overprotective, if your little fireworks display was any indication."

Hannah barely ducked in time to avoid the return of her throw pillow.

"You talk too much," Susan huffed.

"That I do," Her erstwhile friend roguishly agreed. "Enough for the both of us. Enough for all three of us, as a matter of fact. Say, do you suppose he would've made a good 'Puff?"

"Why certainly," The redhead beamed, flashing her usual smile. "He didn't even know me when he first met me, but he still went out of his way to cheer me up when I was feeling down."

The irrepressible blonde whistled and gave a nod.

"Well, I guess he passes then."

"What?"

"The best friend test," The blonde expressed in a matter of fact tone. "You're a good judge of character, Susan, and if you say he's a nice person then I'll place my faith in him as well. I might not know much about him yet, but I know that you wouldn't have stood up for him if you didn't have a good reason for it. Even if you had to get yourself thrown into detention for it."

"Thanks, Hannah."

"No problem. Best friends, and all that," She chirped as Susan enveloped her in a hug. "Now, weren't you about to tell me how you two met?"

"Let's make ourselves comfortable," The redhead said, claiming the unoccupied space on Hannah's bed, "This might take a little time, just so you know..."

"I love bedtime stories," Hannah grinned.

"I know you do."

--

Approximately an Hour After: Slytherin Dorm's, First Year's - Boy's Wing...

Harry lay awake on his back, staring up at the curtained roof of his canopy bed. Staring into the all encompassing darkness wasn't quite like staring up at the void of a starless night sky. It just didn't appeal to him; it just wasn't the same - it just left him...Hollow, on the inside.

Staring up at the night skies had always been a habit of his when he'd been residing with the Dursleys. In the cupboard (and sometimes in the confines of his own room) the moonlit shadows had made him feel small and alone - entrapped in a cage of his own making. Under the veil of the blackened heavens he felt exhilarated and alive - he felt content, and he felt...

"...Free," He said out loud.

Several beds down, Crabbe (or was it Goyle? Amidst the darkness it was very hard to tell) snored in his sleep. There was a rustle of silk sheets and a mutter from the sleeping Malfoy, and once again all was silent. Nothing but the soft low breaths of several sleeping young boys.

It was worse than total silence, and he was feeling restless. Minutes fell off the clock...

He just could not sleep.

Harry quietly padded out of the darkened dorm and headed down the single cold gray corridor to the Slytherin common room. Soft green lamps lit up along the way as he passed, greeting him into a well furnished antechamber filled with silky silver and green tapestries and carved high back seats. The fire grate had already been lit - judging by the continual crackling of the flames, chimney recess had been left that way for some stretch of time.

"Fire is such an interesting thing."

Harry nodded, not even bothering to otherwise acknowledge the cool blonde lounging on a seat by the hearth. She looked the same as she had on the Hogwart's Express - tall and regal for her age, with a distinctive tint of cold apathy in her slanted hawk eyes. Even with the fire's light reflected in her eyes, there was no warmth in her gaze - only a clinical indifference.

"Such beauty it contains - it would enrapt us, draws us forth and deceive us...And yet we admire it all the same. It would burn as all, whether we love it or not."

"So it would," The boy agreed.

"Such is the nature of power," Daphne Greengrass concluded. Her eyes shifted lazily upon the youth staring into the hearth. "But you would know all about that, wouldn't you?"

Harry felt a strange sense of foreboding towards the girl.

"I won't even pretend to understand what you mean, but you are entitled to whatever you choose to believe."

"Are you saying my opinion doesn't matter?" Daphne asked, more for the sake of pressing the conversation.

"No, only the opposite," The boy said, crossing his legs as he sat down before the fire. "It is important to have faith in what you believe. Whether I choose to agree with it is something else entirely."

"You are quite an enigma," The ice princess loftily said. "You, The-Boy-Who-Lived, residing in the same house as the Dark Lord who slew your parents that fateful night of October. That might be one of the reasons why the Gryffindors reacted so violently at the Sorting Hat's proclamation - your parents were proud Gryffindors, you know. Most people in the hall assumed you'd be in that house. Even the Hufflepuffs were surprised."

Harry sat silent, taking the information in. He hadn't known his parents were in that house...

"Gryffindors, you say? I see. Thank you for that tidbit of information."

"...You are most peculiar indeed. Does it not bother you how anyone reacted to your Sorting? The Hufflepuffs, the Ravenclaws, the Gryffindors...The Slytherins? Are you so oblivious to the opinions of the other students - some who you'll be seeing for the next seven years? And what of the teachers? You can't possibly pretend that they didn't react..."

She had a point, Harry had to admit that. Not about the teachers (although Hagrid and McGonagall's aghast expressions had secretly hurt him) - he was sure that despite their misgivings they would be much more professional than that. As for the students, however - he couldn't quite count on them for the same. He knew all he needed to know about ill will from his days at home and at school - how it could fester for years, and how often it spilled over to friends. Too often it had happened in Magnolia Elementary, when people tried to extend him a hand. Dudley's gang would target them simply for the fact that they had wanted to be Harry's friend.

Well, that wasn't going to happen any more - Harry would see to that.

"Oh, it bothers me - don't ever think that it doesn't," He calmly enthused. "I might not look it, but I take those things very seriously. So long as they don't bother me or my...Friend, I really could care less for what they think. But that doesn't mean I'll let them to walk over us, though."

"That Hufflepuff girl certainly didn't. Not that I mind seeing a stupid Gryffindor getting hexed, but that was a little unrefined for the Scion of the House of Bones..."

Fleeting emotion flashed across his features, a little too quick for even the Slytherin to catch.

"Regardless of how you might feel, I am grateful for her," He honestly said.

"Hmmph. So the rumors are partially true. A Slytherin consorts with a Hufflepuff."

Daphne could not make out the meaning of the boy's level look.

"You say that as if it were something to disdain," Harry said.

"Disdain?" She asked with an elegant brow. It was not a convincing gesture. "If you hadn't noticed already, I choose to keep my personal opinions to myself. I am merely commenting on that which I observe."

The boy gave a snort.

"I would've expected that answer from a Ravenclaw."

"It did occur to the Sorting Hat to place me there," Daphne allowed, "But Slytherin House is where I was meant to be."

"How can you be so sure?" Harry countered, concealing a smirk at the girl's scandalized look. "We are still young. Too young to actually know where the future leads."

"Even before I got my letter I already knew where I wanted to be," The blonde Slytherin spoke with deceivingly soft dulcet tones. "Though I'm a little surprised that you, The-Boy-Who-Lived, did not. You seem...A lot more mature for your age. Like the spirit of a wizened man living in a child's body. I have this strange feeling that you know more than you let on..."

She trailed off as the boy stood up. Instead of leaving as she'd originally thought, the boy dragged one of the large overstuffed sofa's over by the fire. The fact that he was able to do it without any assistance was not lost upon the observant girl.

"...I stand corrected. There's definitely more than you let on."

"Like I said before, believe what you want," He said as he laid himself down on the cushions. "It's long past curfew, but just to let you know."

"Of course I already knew that. But my, my, I wasn't aware it was getting so late. Perhaps we shall talk another time - but until then, I bid you a good night," Daphne bowed herself out.

"'Night," The boy replied.

A half hour of tossing and turning passed and sleep still eluded the enigmatic dark haired boy. Harry chanced a glance at the mantle clock. It was one past midnight, and he had simply too much energy to just drop off. Giving up sleep as a bad job, Harry pondered how best to occupy his time.

"Can't go to sleep, but I can't go wandering about - much as I'd like to. It is long past curfew - no doubt they'll have people patrolling the halls. I really shouldn't risk getting caught this early in the year. But then again, since when did I ever abide by the school rules...?"

Harry banked down the fire until it was nothing more than smoke and ash. Hidden away in darkness, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the familiar tug of his magical core, drawing upon it from within. He was a little surprised by the difficulty of the task - he had not had this sort of resistance practicing his vanishing back at the Dursley's home. The strenuous sensation felt somewhat like struggling under water, just without the unpleasant drowning effect. By the time he had the rippling flow of his own magic under seamless control, the boy felt winded and out of breath.

"Now this must be what it feels to swim underwater wearing weights," He muttered as his fingertips began to fade with a tingle. "Still, I could use the practice and a challenge..."

His fingers were next to fade, then his forearm, then his entire arm, and then the rest of his body followed suit, petering out into a fine mist. He didn't remember drawing out his wand during the process, but the familiar icy pulse of the hemlock wand guided him all the way through until his whole body had faded from sight, down to the very last hair on top of his head.

Harry took brief stock to catch his bearings before leaving the Slytherin Common Room into the outer hall. Like a moth he flitted along the torch lit corridors, stopping only long enough to add to the mental lay out of the school mapped out in his mind.

His presence went unnoticed - several prefects passed him by on regular intervals, and his Head of House, one Severus Snape (a tall forbidding man with perpetually greasy hair and a dark scowl) swept past him on a staircase leading to the upper floors. Mr. Filch, one of the school caretakers, almost bumped into him stepping out of a secret passageway hidden behind a false wall. His constant companion, a cat named Miss Norris, was nowhere to be seen.

Barring several other near run-ins, the boy had the school practically to himself. In two hours time, Harry had explored the kitchens, the library, several classrooms, and much of the upper halls. He visited the owlery (and spent some time with his snowy owl Hedwig) and walked up the Astronomy Tower (which he left not so soon afterwards, after capturing a good long glimpse of the milky white stars above.)

His lone wanderings abruptly ended on the way down the high tower, where trouble inevitably reared its ugly head - in the form of a mangy red eyed cat. Miss Norris was hidden beneath the foot of the stairs, nearly out of sight - if not for quick wits and reflexes, Harry would've been left with one squashed cat. He was forced to leap right over the little miscreant - and his shoes impacted the smooth stone floor with a squeak and a dull thud.

It wasn't too surprising that the wiley cat noticed.

"Meow," It said.

Harry felt the hairs stand up at the back of his neck as he hastily made a move - the feline's eyes were alert and attentive. Its piercing gaze did not waver - its attention was riveted solely upon him.

Harry did what came natural to him - he ran, and the cat followed. Try as he might, the boy could not shake off the persistent wild eyed cat. He cut across corners, tore down passageways, and fled through several hidden doors - and still the little pest trailed doggedly at his wake. The cat hesitated, however, as he stole down a long corridor of one of the upper floors.

The door at the very end of the musty hall had a large lock. Remembering what he'd previously practiced from the Standard Book of Spells, Harry tapped the rusting thing with his wand and incanted a single command.

"Alohamora!"

The lock sprung open just as Miss Norris decided to tear down the hall. She made it just in time as Harry leapt in and swung the door shut.

"Persistent little one, aren't you?" He calmly intoned.

The cat glared defiantly up at the boy...

A thunderous growl shook the confines of the room. Compelled by a strange mixture of horror and curiosity, cat and boy turned slowly as one to the source of the bellowing sound...

Only to find themselves faced with the baleful yellow eyed gaze of a monstrous black dog. Two more pairs of yellow eyes blinked sleepily at the third's continual growls, and two extra noses flared and twitched to life. Harry remembered a little late the warning Dumbledore gave concerning the corridor on the third floor...

"Oh. A Cerebus," He said in deceivingly calm shock.

The great three headed dog lurched forward, fangs bared - and skidded to a halt as the rest of its body refused to move. The two other heads growled sleepily in protest, and the third gnashed its teeth in annoyance. In the ensuing confusion, Harry barley noticed that it was standing on an innocuous trapdoor.

As the Cerebus struggled to come fully awake, Harry took his chance. The boy bolted out the door and slammed it shut. A panicked yowl and a skitter of claws on wood reminded him of Miss Norris. Against his better conscience (or so he might've thought), Harry reached from around the door and snatched the petrified cat just as the Cerebus began to charge.

With a hasty incantation of the locking charm, Harry sped down the third corridor, Miss Norris frozen in his hands. Just as he cleared the hall, the door rang with a mighty crash. Much to the boy's relief, the heavy rusted lock held. The Cerebus gave a single muffled roar - and then nothing.

Harry slumped against the wall, feeling exhausted and burned out.

"I'm visible again," He muttered with an astounded breath, "And you," He addressed the shivering lump of fur in his arms, "Owe me for this."

Miss Norris hissed and glared.

"What is with that look?" The boy inquired, initiating a stare down with the cat. "I didn't make you go into that room - you leapt right on after me, remember? I daresay I saved your life."

"Sigh. What a night...One dilemma after another," He muttered, examining his hand. The tips of his fingertips faded slightly, but the boy found himself incapable of accomplishing any more. Vanishing was no longer an option for this nightly trek; he had neither the concentration nor the magic reserves to maintain his own invisibility any further.

The boy dropped his hand in disgust.

"Fine mess I got myself into. Don't suppose there's a hidden passageway down to the Slytherin Common Room...," He mused aloud to himself.

A tug of tiny teeth at his robes brought his attention back to the pesky little scamp.

"What is it...?"

The cat didn't answer - it just padded the rest of the way out of the corridor and down a flight of steps. Miss Norris stopped at the very bottom and turned its head to look back his way. Harry blinked.

"You want me to follow? You aren't about to lead me into trouble, are you?"

The cat rolled its eyes and shook its furry little head.

"Hang on...There isn't really a hidden passageway down to the dungeons, is there?"

An impatient swish of the cat's tail urged the green eyed wonder to follow.

"Are there many hidden passageways?" He whispered as they crept stealthily past the darkened Great Hall.

Not missing a step, the cat gave a decisive nod. Harry was intrigued.

"Do you know them all?"

Another nod. The scruffy black and gray cat stopped between two suits of armor and a tapestry. It began pawing the frayed yellow cloth.

Taking the cue, Harry gently braced his shoulder against the solid looking front and discovered a hidden false wall.

"Forgive me for asking, but why are you helping me?" Wondered the boy.

The cat began pawing at the air.

There was a tiny blue strand, no thinker than a hair, connected the cat's paw and Harry's hand. It was faint, so faint it was nearly invisible to the naked eye - but at a touch the boy felt the familiar tug of his own magic from within. The cat did not wait for further questions - there were footsteps approaching from the blind corner around the hall.

Miss Norris stepped through the tapestry with Harry following suit. The false wall slid silently into place, and the patrolling prefect passed them by none the wiser. Several detours and winding corridors later, cat and boy emerged at the foot of the Slytherin Common Room.

"Thank you," Harry bowed. "Although I still don't understand why you helped me, your aid was most appreciated."

Miss Norris padded down the hall to leave.

"If I might be so bold, could you show me how to get around the castle some other day? As a favor, of course."

The wild eyed feline froze. It's little face contorted unpleasantly, as if resisting some invisible force. The fragile magic link between them flared and the cat mewled. In the end, Miss Norris gave a decidedly jerky and grudging nod.

"I really appreciate that. Thanks again."

Harry favored the feline with a polite nod, and Miss Norris stalked away around a bend. The boy muttered the password ("Pureblood," He spat) and stumbled into the common room. He dragged himself onto his appointed couch and surrendered himself promptly to sleep, not knowing he had just secured a life debt from the cantankerous caretaker's cat.

A/N: Finally have DSL internet up and running. What a goddamned chore! They said it was easy, but...Anyway, sorry for the wait. Thank you for your patience. Hope this was worth the wait!


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

D/C: Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. It's as simple as that.

The beauty of a soft September morn (subsequent to a restless night of wandering the castle floors) was not lost on the "The-Boy-Who-Lived." It was a beautiful morning, rivaled only by the splendorous sight of sprawling forests, clear water ways, and the snowcapped mountains beyond and below. Harry Potter surveyed the sweeping landscape, drinking in the sumptuous views - all from the shingled rooftop of the castle's Astronomy Tower.

It was well past the hours of dawn, and the sun blushed forth with gold radiant hues. It was a nice day to be out and about - just the sort of day to relax, kick back, and watch the clouds cavort with the sun.

"Perhaps another time," The boy mused. "'Sides, I really ought to be heading back."

A doleful bark and a squeak from his left shoulder answered back in reply.

"You know exactly why I can't stay," He said, raising an arm against the errant winds, "Can't have people wondering where I've been all this time, and besides there are classes I must attend to. Which reminds me..."

Harry rummaged through the book bag slung across his chest and produced an elegantly scripted piece of parchment. Written across the front of the page were several times tables, each one marked for a particular day. He perused the document distractedly while Hedwig the owl leaned from her roost on his shoulder, peering curiously as if to take a good look.

"It's my schedule of classes," He said for the sole benefit of his owl. "And I'm starting my first official day of class with History of Magic. It's a double period...As are most of my classes this semester. Seems I won't be attending some of my subjects more than once a week. I imagine the teachers will do everything in their power to keep us on our toes to make up for that..."

"Preyk?" Hedwig ventured uncertainly.

"I'm talking about homework and reading assignments - not that you should worry about that my friend," Harry responded to his owl's look. "Even if I have to pull an all-nighter to complete it all, I'll always remember to come visit you...But not every single night, you understand?"

"Preyk," Hedwig affirmed, clicking her beak.

"Good. Now, as for the rest of my schedule...Tuesday's Herbology followed by Charms...Wednesday starts with flying lessons and ends with Astronomy...Thursday looks promising - Defense in the morning and Transfiguration in the afternoon. And the last class I've got is Potions on Friday..."

Harry's musings were cut short by the great toll from the clock tower bell. Surprised by the clangorous sound, the boy hastily drew out his watch.

"Fifteen minutes until class - not much time for breakfast," He muttered, frowning at the clock display, "Looks like I'll be cutting it close." Turning abruptly on his owl he asked, "Would you like to come down for a bit? The kitchens are a lot closer from here than the Great Hall..."

"Gaw," The snowy white owl declined with a lazy shake of her head.

"Your loss, my friend," He said with a shrug.

After exchanging goodbyes (Hedwig gently nipped his fingers as he stroked the feathers across her back), the two friends parted ways. Hedwig flew to the owlery while Harry clambered down the roof ledge to the Astronomy Tower's window. Once he'd straightened his wind tousled robes, the boy took the spiraling staircase down to the second hall corridor down below. From there he proceeded past several colorful paintings into a torch ensconced hall, and there he stopped before a giant painting of a large silver fruit bowl. Copying the motions of a prefect he'd caught sneaking in from his adventures the night before, Harry reached out to tickle the underside of a painted green pear. The bulbous fruit squirmed and giggled at his touch, and obediently popped open to reveal the concealed kitchen door.

Forgetting to conceal himself, Harry dove straight in.

The kitchen was as large as the Great Hall, with near exact dimensions. It was a spacious brick and tile room filled with kitchen islands, mounds of pots and pans, and great big fire place far back against the wall. It'd been void of attendants the night before - now it was filled to capacity. A great number of curious little creatures (all dressed in tea towels) milled around the kitchen area as busy as bees, working merrily away at their own rate. Their protuberant green eyes shifted distractedly from their duties as the boy froze halfway through the door.

"...Pardon me," Harry calmly began.

He was dragged inside before he could even think of making good his escape.

The next thing he knew, he was surrounded by a sea of inquisitive long nosed faces. Harry wasn't sure how to respond so he did what came naturally to him - he greeted them with a polite bow.

"...Hello."

"Good morning, young sir," One of the smiling creatures squeaked. This one stood out from the others, as it wore a pink apron and small chef's hat. "I is Twitchy, Twitchy the House-Elf."

Harry unthinkingly stuck out his hand.

"I," The boy shifted uncomfortably under a hundred glinting eyes, "I'm Harry Po - Er, just Harry."

Twitchy stared shocked at the gesture. Recovering with a watery smile, she shook it.

"Just Harry sir has good manners," The House elf remarked.

"Thank you. So do you."

Twitchy and her companions beamed.

"Allow us to welcome youse to the Hogwart's kitchens, young sir."

Somewhere in the vicinity of a hundred elves bowed and curtsied at the slightly bemused boy. It was a little unnerving - here he was, caught red handed sneaking into the kitchen, surrounded on all sides by the peculiar looking elves - and instead of berating him they embraced him as a welcoming presence. He was glad that that they took no offense at his obvious intrusion, but he was admittedly abashed by the elves' unexpectedly chipper response.

"Is there anything you'll be wanting, sir?" An elf asked balancing a dish of pancakes on his head.

"Would you like a bit of tea?" Another volunteered, hurriedly brewing a fresh pot of tea.

"Perhaps young sir would like something else?" A third, a fourth, and a fifth voice chorused eagerly. Others piped in, and soon all the elves in the room were speaking at once.

The boy held his hands up, politely gesturing for a moment of silence.

"Not that I'm ungrateful to you all, but don't any of you find it a little strange that I just tried to sneak in?" Harry finally managed to ask.

A hundred bat wing ears flapped in the air as the elves shook their heads.

"Hogwarts kitchen be a secret, but most everyone eventually finds out," Twitchy stated to a round of sagacious nods. "We House-Elves don't mind. Students dropping by are most welcome! We is always happy to serve - you have only to ask. Surely, young sir is in need of assistance...?"

The boy swiftly sought for time. He blanched at how many minutes had ticked away.

"I'm in a bit of a hurry," Harry admitted, pocketing his watch. "I lost track of time watching the sun rise by the Astronomy Tower..."

"Nipped over to the kitchens 'cause youse missed breakfast, has you?" Twitchy asked.

The young master gave an affirmative nod.

"Say no more," The House-Elf said.

Given the shortage of time, Twitchy and her cronies zipped straight to work. They scampered in blurs around the kitchens, bundling baked goods into a basket made from an abnormally large tea cozy. Stuffing it fit to burst with sweet breads, ham rolls, and the odd pig-in-a-blanket, the elves tied off the lot with twine and presented the bundle to the secretly impressed boy.

"Thanks," Harry said, meaning it, "Really thanks. But this...," He stared at the bundle, "Really is a bit much."

"Youse could always share with friends," Twitchy stated proudly/dismissively.

"...But this is too much for two people," The boy protested under his breath.

The House-Elves looked on in pride as the boy struggled to stuff the bulging bundle into his book bag.

"Young sir should go now," The elves squeaked as they ushered him to the door, "Last bell about to sound - classes soon to begin."

True to their word, the second bell tolled.

With another hasty bow of gratitude, Harry cannoned out of the kitchens and ran pell-mell down the brightly lit hall. In the wake of his footsteps came the squeaks of his well wishing friends.

"Have a good day, young sir!"

"Come back real soon!" Another elf sprightly cheered.

"Feel free to invite your friends!" Twitchy chirped.

"It's a short list," Harry said as he threw back a tapestry at the end of the hall. His voice echoed down the corridor as he vanished through yet another the false wall, "But I'll do that!"

Two floors down, in History of Magic...

The ghostly Professor Binns didn't seem fazed by the lack of feedback from his audience, and it showed. Half of his students were asleep, and those who were not were fighting a losing battle to stay awake. Three Hufflepuffs in the front row had no difficulty fending off sleep, but it wasn't because they were enrapt by the subject matter - no, they didn't care much for the history lesson at all. Rather, they were wide awake because they were bickering amongst themselves.

"I can't believe I'm in the same House as you guys!" Hannah Abbot scowled.

"What I can't believe is that you are taking to her side!" Her seatmate retorted back. "Fifty points from Hufflepuff and detention with Professor Sprout, a day before the school term had even begun...Really, what was our Susan thinking, going off on a fit like that?"

"Clearly, she wasn't thinking straight," The stout blond boy on the other side of Hannah whispered back. "But then, that shouldn't come as too much of a surprise, now, should it?"

"What do you mean by that?" His tall skinny housemate asked.

"You have heard the rumors, haven't you?"

"What rumors?" The tall Hufflepuff sharply asked. Unnoticed by him, Hannah's scowl grew even worse.

"Well," The stout fellow began importantly, "I heard our little Susan has a crush on _The-Boy-Who-Lived_..."

"_What_?!" The tall blond hissed.

"I know," The stout Hufflepuff nodded indignantly, "Took me completely by surprise too. You think you know a person, and then - Oof!"

Two pairs of watery eyes regarded the pig tailed blonde, whose elbows were still lodged right into their ribs.

"You guys," Hannah scoffed, "Are simply the worst! I could never have imagined you two to act like this! We've been friends with Susan since childhood, for Merlin's sake - I thought you would know better than to believe every word that comes out of the grapevine!"

"So she doesn't have a crush, right?" Demanded Zacharias Smith.

A burble of incredulous laughter nearly escaped the blonde girl's lips.

"Why are we even having this conversation? We should be paying attention to the class!"

"Because this is important and there's nothing better to do," Zach lazily drawled. "This lecture," His head jerked towards the front of the classroom, "Is a joke; the students are nodding in their seats; and the History Professor doesn't look as if he could care what the bloody hell we do."

"Zacharias Smith-"

The boy pressed onward even as Hannah tried to head him off.

"Seriously, what do we care about some forgotten historical figure known as Oddball the Evil? And what does Professor Binns care for it? He doesn't seem very thrilled with his subject, and we've been chatting for the last five minutes nonstop through his lecture. Does he do a thing to stop us? No, he hasn't - and there he goes again on Emeric the Oddball or whatever his name is! He's like a broken record saying the same thing over and over again! It's distracting...And speaking of which, you still haven't answered my question."

"What does it matter?" Hannah replied. "Even if she did have a crush, why would that be of our concern?"

"Because he's a Slytherin!" Ernie Macmillan hissed (Zach nodded his firm and resolute support.) "Or did you forget what our parents taught us? 'There's not a witch nor wizard who didn't go bad who wasn't in Slytherin.' _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ was a Slytherin-"

"Of all the people in this classroom, I think Susan's aware of that more than anyone else," Hannah retorted in an uncharacteristically cold tone. "Or did you forget that our dear friend lost her family to _You-Know-Who's_ forces, some of whose children are probably attending this school this very day?"

"If she knew that then why is she consorting with him?!" Zacharias growled.

"Harry might be in Slytherin, Zach, but I highly doubt he'd rush to the defense of _You-Know-Who_. Would you even consider joining him if he'd killed your parents, and then _tried to kill you_?"

"No...," Ernie muttered under his breath. As expected, Zach refused to reply.

"And you do remember that it was The-Boy-Who-Lived who vanquished _You-Know-Who_?"

"Of course we remember!" Zacharias replied unrepentantly, "But that doesn't change the fact that he's in it with the snakes!"

"_You are hopeless_! Zach, this is exactly the reason why we're sitting up front and why Susan chose to sit alone at the back," Sighed Hannah with steadily declining patience. "You guys just don't get it! Hasn't it occurred to you that she might trust him? That she's known Harry since before they even set foot in this school?"

"And pray tell me how could that have come to be?" The tall blond inquired.

"Indeed," The stout blond agreed. "You know how her Aunt Amelia's like - she's so overprotective that she hardly ever let's Susan go unattended outdoors. The only people Susan's ever met are the ones her aunt invites to her home - family friends like us. I think it's safe to say we would've heard if _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ had happened to drop by the Bones Manor. Why, it would've made the first page in the Daily Prophet! You know how elusive that boy is..."

"You can believe whatever you want," Hannah quietly said. "I'm telling you - they. Are. Friends!"

Zacharias' eyes widened with dawning realization.

"Let me get this straight. You knew...?"

"Since last night," Hannah flippantly decreed. "She probably would've told you this morning if you had all been a little _nice_."

Zacharias colored slightly from the obvious barb.

"If you know so much, tell us - when did she meet him, then? What else has she told you?"

Hannah gave a snort.

"I'm sorry, _Zach_," She said, not bothering to hide the fact that she wasn't the least bit sorry at all, "But I'm not about to tell any of you. All the Hufflepuffs had their chance at breakfast this morning, and somehow you all blew it. What was my House thinking, confronting her about this? Doubt any of you noticed that afterwards she didn't have a bite to eat. Now she's hungry, fed-up, and confused - little wonder why she doesn't want to talk to any of us," She added miserably. "You guys just couldn't let it go, could you...?"

"And we don't intend to," Zacharias shot back. "He's a bad influence on her, and as Hufflepuffs we won't let that stand."

"_You are unbelievable_!" The girl hissed.

Anyone who didn't already have their head down on their desk were watching the enfolding argument with wide eyed interest. It was far more stimulating than anything the History Professor had to say, and it was hands down far more enthralling than the subject matter. Professor Binns breezed monotonously through his lecture as Hannah, Ernie, and Zach argued heedlessly on...

Inadvertently drawing attention away from the door swinging open at the back.

A hand quickly stilled the door as a pair of green eyes scanned the History Classroom from front to back. Deeming it safe to move (as the students "_seemed_" immersed in their studies), the young master proceeded to slink to the empty desk closest to his corner of the room. The boy hesitated as he eyed a familiar plait of auburn just two desks down. Double-checking his surroundings, Harry snuck behind several occupied seats and slid stealthily next to a shockingly disheveled Susan Bones.

At a distinct disadvantage (and at a total loss of words), the boy tentatively reached out a hand out to his friend.

"Hey," He greeted, gently rubbing her shoulder.

Susan did not acknowledge him at first, perhaps because her head lay cradled in her hands. The perfect plait across her back was partially undone - the little bow at the very end was the only thing keeping the braid in place. And when she finally did look up, her face was creased worry, tension, and uncertainty - made all the more clearer with the appearance of a watery smile.

"Oh. Hey you," She returned with a hint of renewed cheer. "Didn't catch you at breakfast..."

"Didn't make it down to the Great Hall," He shrugged. "I was...Preoccupied with things."

"Not by other students, I hope," She eyed him fervently.

"No, nothing of that sort." His gaze flickering with sudden understanding, he asked, "They've been giving you a hard time, haven't they?"

"It's nothing I can't handle," The redhead moved to reassure (and it did, despite his reservations - Susan was a strong willed girl) "It's just...Irritating, I guess. A bit of a disappointment too. Looks like Weasley wasn't the only one who wanted to make a statement. My friends, my housemates, people I don't even know - you've made quite a name for yourself."

"I really wouldn't say that," Harry said with a wry half smile.

"Apparently, so have I, for standing up for you," Susan mused, playing with a strand of her hair. "But I think the older members of my house were angrier that I lost them so much points early on, rather than for me being friends with you. Can't say the same for the Gryffindors, of course. I'm not sure who they're more outraged at - you for 'abandoning' the lions for the snakes, or me for silencing Ron Weasley - it's a tough call," She quipped.

"Nevertheless, I'm grateful to you all the same. That was an impressive bit of wand casting, by the way. Should I...," He hesitated, "Have already known how to do all that? I'm not sure I read any of those spells in the book..."

Susan twirled her wand expertly around her fingers.

"Oh, Aunt Amelia might've taught me an extra trick or two."

"Oh. Could you teach me?"

"We'll see," She winked.

"That's all I can hope for. So, did I miss much?"

The redhead followed the lazy arch of his hand to where he was indicating the chalkboard.

"From the history lecture? No, nothing at all. When did you decide to drop in, by the way?"

"Several minutes ago. I snuck in from the back. It was unerringly easy."

His proud accomplishment was somewhat dashed by Susan's amused laugh.

"I bet it was. You didn't have to sneak in - I don't think Professor Binns would have seen the difference had you stomped your way in."

"No?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Nuh-uh," The redhead waggled a finger of her hand. "Besides, didn't you notice all the sleeping students when you snuck around the classroom? They're not bowing their heads to study better..."

"Oh," He said, ducking his head. "I thought they were staring hard at their assignments..."

"And anyone who is still awake are probably eavesdropping on my arguing friends."

Harry glanced briefly at the furious trio whispering in the front row.

"Don't ask," She implored beseechingly, "Not now, maybe later. I don't feel like it now."

"All right," The boy agreed, turning his gaze upon their ethereal instructor. "So it wasn't just a joke. Professor Binns is really a ghost?"

"That he is."

"I see," Harry nodded understandingly. He took a quick flurry of notes from Binns' lecture, loftily remarking, "He's just...Repeating himself, I'm sure you noticed..."

"Oh, it's not that bad," Susan demurred, "Think of this as a free study period, where we can just talk or do whatever we want."

"Whatever we want, eh...?" Harry mused, glancing around. Rubbing his hands together, the boy began to sort through the belongings of his bag.

"What are you...?"

"Breakfast," He intoned, pulling out a bulging tea cozy from his bag. Susan glanced over his shoulder as he untied the string of twine, and grinned stupidly at the bounty of baked goods therein. Drawing in the sweet buttery scents, the girl breathed a long and happy sigh.

"I know you've had breakfast already," Harry continued, oblivious to the way his friend was licking her lips, "But would you-?"

"Don't mind if I do," The redhead chirruped. She began stockpiling on rolls and sweets with apparent gusto, taking what was being offered with a pleased smile.

"I would've brought more had I'd known you liked it that much," He whistled softly. Selecting a pig-in-a-blanket from the makeshift basket, Harry took a generous bite and settled down to eat.

"Say, Harry?" Susan asked after a moment of contemplative thought.

"Mmmrph?" He inquired from around a mouthful of sausage and bread.

"If you didn't go down to the Great Hall for breakfast this morning, how did you manage to come by this spread?"

It was Harry's turn to wink.

"Have patience," He enthused. "Rather than tell you about it, I think I'll just show you. Where we'll end up isn't too big of a secret - it still is, mind you - but the ways to get there most certainly are. One thing I can say for certain - you won't find any of this in _Hogwarts: A History_. It's something I just happened to stumble upon just the night before..."

A/N: This was a long time coming. Going to be a busy summer for me. Between school graduation, job searching, and the interviews, it's been a little taxing on the mind. Still is, actually...

But don't worry. I'm not running out of ideas - in fact, I've already imagined through most of my tale in my head. It's only a matter of putting the chapters into words.

More set up for the future to come - I don't think I have to tell you what it means for Harry to teach Susan the secrets of the castle...Zach and Ernie were difficult to write! Not much material to go by in the books...Had to keep editing their conversation with Hannah over and over again. On the other hand it was easier (and I liked) doing the bit on the kitchen and the house-elves. That was fun.

Anywho, you know what to do. Review, review, review!


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

D/C: Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. It's as simple as that.

It was no lie that despite the controversy surrounding them, they had the entire school intrigued. They were an anomaly, a paradox, two people with near nothing in common in between. Yet it was undeniable what they truly were - not a crush, nor a couple, as the rumors led others to believe. Perhaps it was difficult for the gossipers to understand, but Harry Potter and Susan Bones were simply friends. Close friends; loyal friends; trusting friends, yes - but regardless they were still only friends. What else could anyone expect from a pair of innocent eleven year olds?

Such concepts like relationships hadn't occurred to the young Slytherin and Hufflepuff...

Yet.

Weeks fell of the calendar, and the controversy surrounding them eventually ebbed. The whispers inevitably continued in the halls, but the majority of their peers refrained from pressing the issue in their presence. Bad luck was said to befall those who lacked the sense to leave them alone.

At first it was a bit of a laughing matter, something that, for a while, had become a joke and a dare amongst the older crowd. After the first two weeks of accidents, however, even the most avid skeptics weren't all that very sure whether the scattered rumors weren't actually the truth.

Things just...Tended to happen around the nigh inseparable pair.

Zacharias Smith was quite possibly the first to observe this firsthand. He'd stormed into the loo after having cross words with Susan and reemerged rushing out only seconds later, spluttering and drenched from head to foot. Fred and George Weasley, along with their friends in Gryffindor, spent several weeks trying (and failing) to revenge themselves for Ron, who (much to their confounded disbelief) mysteriously wound up the unwitting victim of _**every single**_ one of their pranks. Draco Malfoy and his clique were twice as tenacious, but like the Weasley twins before them all their efforts were for naught. Their numerous attempts at ambush in the halls often led to accidents, misfires, and melees in which everyone else (besides their victims) wound up cursed by another. It didn't help matters that Miss Norris would unexpectedly arrive in the midst of trouble with a triumphant Argus Filch in tow.

Nearly a dozen detentions with the gleeful (and sadistic) caretaker slowly (but assuredly) brought the lesson home. The wrath the miscreants received from their Heads of House were added incentives to lay off (or as the Potions Master memorably gritted out, "Don't. Get. _**Caught**_!")

And so after a month of rumors and mayhem, life at Hogwarts had begun to settle down.

Just in time, too, as the school curriculum gradually picked up. The workload had increased (ten inches of parchment per class had students working doggedly through the night) and by October practical lessons in Herbology, Transfiguration, Flying, Potions, and Charms kept all but the most studious students on their feet. Even with the increasing hours of study, most classes were informative, well worth the time, and engagingly fun, save for Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and History Class. Potions proved to be most unpleasant - the classroom was dark and dreary, and so was Professor Snape. His classes were a raw deal - he belittled his students, intimidated them into making mistakes, and lauded just about everyone from Slytherin House. _Almost_ everyone. From the very first lesson, it was clear that Harry's Head of House had had some bizarre grudge against him, as he took every opportunity to dock points from the boy for the most preposterous things imaginable. Unfazed by the loss of points (and caring even less for the greasy git's obvious issues,) Harry concluded that the Hogwart's Potions Professor was nothing more than a deranged lunatic and an arrogant buffoon. Defense Against the Dark Arts, like History of Magic, had become a joke, and Professor Quirrell kept his word when he said there were no practical exams to be had. Like Professor Binns, Quirrell taught lessons straight from the book, and like the ghostly instructor the thin stuttering man had a regrettable tendency to ramble uselessly through his subject.

Little wonder why Harry and Susan regularly chose to ditch Defense and History in favor of other pursuits. Their hobbies included (but weren't limited to) exploring obscure passageways, teaching card games to the elves, and going several rounds of spell tag in the thicket beside the lake.

Of all their secret little pastimes, the wizarding world's rendition of tag was their foremost favorite. The ultimate goal of the game was hardly any different from the muggle form of the sport, and it required the very same skills - running, hiding, and observation. But there was one major twist to their version of the sport - muggle tag usually had players tagging one another out with a touch of hands, a flashlight, or a ball. Spell tag was a bit different - it was played primarily with wands, and with the inclusion of spells (restricted to household and low level charms) the games were bound to have their moments.

It was the last day of October, Halloween during a particularly late afternoon, that found Harry crouched behind a fallen tree, his eyes alert for any sign of the (deceptively enough) stealthy redhead. According to their last count it was a tied game, but ever since then they had quickly lost track of the score. Not that it made much of a difference who'd won or who'd lose - the sole intention of the sport was to let loose while having fun. Conveniently enough, as it so often happened during their chaotic plays, the two youths had also lost track of who was 'it' and who was on the run.

This inevitably led to their favorite conclusion - sudden death rules, with the winner dealing the last shot.

Sixteen minutes had elapsed since the start of the latest round, and two minutes had gone by since Susan had vanished from sight. The boy lowered his profile as he fingered his wand. Some inner instinct told him that the match wouldn't last for very long.

A rustle of leaves drew his attention to the shrubs on his far left. Harry loosed a tickling hex in that direction, and darted aside just in time as a cry of "_Petrificus Totalus_!" was shouted from the tall grass to his right. A poor frog resting on top of the fallen trunk gave an indignant croak just before it froze and slid off at the boy's feet. It's bulging yellow eyes seemed to glare balefully up at him.

"Forgive us, little one," The boy said as he dodged a hastily cast tripping hex. Spinning on his feet, the boy gave a jab of his hemlock wand and sent a streaming fountain of water Susan's way. The girl's yelp of laughter echoed through the grass riddled thicket as she scrambled behind a tree, saving herself the embarrassment of returning to the castle in drenched robes. She dove right back into view and snapped off an itching hex in retaliation.

Harry's eyes widened as he was forced to leap awkwardly aside to avoid getting hit in a most uncomfortable spot. Recovering swiftly, the boy stood back up and waggled a finger in return.

To her credit, Susan did appear genuinely apologetic.

"Sorry, Harry. Didn't mean it to be so low-"

Some obscure detail of his face brought her instantly on alert. With a scant seconds to spare, Susan rushed to evade Harry's jelly legs curse. She shot back to her feet, looking annoyed and perturbed.

"Ooh, you little cheat," She muttered under her breath, "Of all the buggered things - you did that on purpose! Almost got me there, too!"

"It would've been too easy if I had," He smirked, rolling out of his hiding place away from the redhead's fearless approach. Susan seemed rather bent to get him this time, as she was sending barrage after barrage of household charms his way. The boy was simply waiting for her to tire herself out, indulging her without even returning a single hex...

Taking another step back, his shoes sank into wet sand. Glancing down, he had only a moment to unstick his shoes when a tired (but still determined) red blur tackled him into the Black Lake. With a surprised shout, they hit the water's surface with a tremendous splash.

Neither surfaced for a moment. And then...

"Pfaw!"

Susan bobbed up to the surface. Harry simply rose from the shallows.

"Got you," The redhead panted out.

"As I recall, this isn't muggle tag," Harry declared, "Which means you still haven't tagged me out just yet."

His smirk faded when he realized he had misplaced his wand.

"Now where did I...?"

"Looking for this?" The redhead smiled, twirling his hemlock wand. With an expert jab she triumphantly crowed her final spell. "_Fonticulus_!"

Susan cackled while the boy stoically took the jet fountain spell.

"I would've much preferred a drying charm," He quipped, running a hand through his wet hair.

"So are we agreed?"

The young master gave a bow.

"I concede defeat."

"Ever the scholar, even in defeat. You could simply say 'You won,'" She smirked.

"I could," He shrugged, "But that wouldn't be my style."

"Typical Harry-speak," She snorted, tossing back his wand. "Help me look for my wand?"

Harry nodded as he deftly caught the hemlock wand. Combing through the shallows, they eventually found where Susan had dropped wand. The redhead picked her wand from off the sandy bottom, tucked it into her robes, and proceeded to plod in the direction of the shore.

"Let's go before we get ourselves dried off..."

Harry didn't immediately say anything, as he was carefully gauging the forest shadows and the sun.

"You know there's still several hours before the Halloween Feast..."

"And so what of it...?"

The redhead turned her head and squealed as she was promptly doused from behind. Parting aside her soaking red hair, the girl narrowed her eyes and pointed vehemently at the swiftly retreating boy.

"Oh, you little...," She laughed, "Right, you are in for it now!"

Susan waded back into the water as she went in pursuit of the boy. It didn't take very long, as Harry wasn't really trying all that hard to escape. Still cackling, the girl tackled him from behind and dragged him once more below the surface. They resurfaced seconds later, frolicking, splashing, and laughing (or smirking, in Harry's case) in the shallows of the Black Lake.

By the time they were dried, and cleaned, and ready to go the afternoon had slipped right past. The sun had fled into the horizon and the moon reigned over the star bright sky. It was five minutes before the Halloween Feast was to be held in the Great Hall, and Twitchy and her contingent of elves were expecting them for dinner over a game of cards. Harry and Susan raced back to the castle, having no intention of disappointing their friends.

They were sneaking up the second floor staircase when a clamorous hubbub erupted somewhere down below.

"I imagine they must be celebrating pretty hard in the Great Hall," Susan said. Harry gave a nod. They had already seen the festive decorations as they had helped the elves put them up themselves - from the fluttering bats, to the floating pumpkins, to the charmed ceiling which now portrayed a hazy (and spooky) thunder lit sky. Ever since the adornments went up students had come and gone from the Hall in such celebratory spirits. Was it any surprise that they were making the best of the occasion? Neither girl nor boy gave the muted uproar any further mind as they negotiated several secret passageways to the kitchen.

Popping up behind a tapestry, Susan abruptly froze and pulled Harry behind the painted cloth. The boy was about to ask her what was up when he caught the thud of approaching footfalls. Harry peered around the tapestry as his (idiotic) Head of House swept down the corridor and vanished from view.

"That was close," The redhead sighed. "Shouldn't he be down at the Halloween feast?"

"Curioser and curioser," The boy observed. "He's taking the corridor up to the third floor..."

"What business would he have up there...?"

They were frightened out of their musings by a deafening ground shaking roar. Somewhere up ahead, the harsh shriek of twisting metal and the brittle crash of ceramic boomed and echoed right off of the walls.

"Should we...?"

"...Get a teacher?" Harry nodded. "Agreed."

They began tearing back down the passageway when they heard a shrill and piercing scream.

Harry didn't argue with his friend as they raced back through the tapestry. Self preservation aside, neither of them wished to have another's life on their conscience - and so they advanced to the source of the commotion, their wands already drawn. The redhead was first to round the bend.

"It's coming from the girl's bathroom..."

Upon entering, they were assailed by a foul odor...

Which was soon forgotten as they eyed the monstrosity rampaging within.

Standing easily at twelve feet, the hairless leathery skinned brute lumbered through the remains of the girl's loo, swinging a huge wooden club as it stamped around on grotesque trunk shaped feet. A single whispered word from the paling redhead summarized the monster in brief.

"Troll!"

"This...Thing?"

Harry frowned. He had read a section on them in the D.A.D.A. books, and remembered they were notoriously resistant to spells...

It was not a very bright creature, apparently, as the creature failed to register their words. The hulk snuffled and growled as it ambled towards a pile of debris, knocking aside sink fixtures as it went. Susan apparently saw something that Harry couldn't, as she recklessly tried to draw its attention.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

A pipe hovered over the troll's head. Giving the incantation a moment's pause, the redhead released it.

_Thonk_!

The lumbering beast shook itself as the floating pipe bounced off its head. As it turned slowly around, Harry caught sight of the still form of a bushy brown hair girl. She was trapped, face down, beneath several splintered bathroom stalls, unconscious to the rest of the world. The boy didn't take long to register this as the Troll advanced on his companion with its club. He did not miss Susan's fearful glance.

"Oh ho, no you don't," Growled the boy.

Carefully picking a broken glass pane from off the floor, Harry hurled the serrated edge at the hulk's back.

Although it only shattered against its thick hide, the tinkling of glass got the desired effect. The troll trundled to a stop. Harry jerked his head to the side as the hulk turned around, indicating for Susan to move. Understanding nods were exchanged as the girl slid close against the wall. With the troll's attention diverted on him, she was free to tend to the fallen girl.

Deciding its course, the troll came at him at a run. Lunging aside, Harry felt the tug of magic as he made a sharp motion with his fingers. The club jerked slightly away and missed its mark by a couple of feet. It raised its club again, staring at the knotted wood as if wondering why it had missed.

Harry frowned as he backed away. His wandless attempt at wresting the club had only distracted it. Which wasn't a bad thing, as he raced between its legs towards the entrance of the loo.

"Psst, Blockhead," He hissed after the confused beast, "Right behind you,"

Tapping into his focus once again, the boy levitated a jagged sliver of metal and with a flick of his hand hurtled it after the troll.

_Sthunk_!

Surprise was clearly etched across the troll's dull looking face.

Rubbing delicately at its ear, the troll came away with the sight of it's own blood. This time when the troll turned, its attention remained transfixed unwaveringly upon him. Its mean little eyes narrowed as it held its club aloft. Whitening slightly, Harry glanced surreptitiously in the direction of Susan. Much to his relief, she had fully extricated the girl from the rubble and was tending as best as she could her wounds.

It was all the time he had before the troll charged after him with a roar.

Leaping out into the corridor, Harry hid behind an alcove as chunks of masonry flew in all directions of the hall.

"_**Harry!**_" Susan screamed from within the loo.

"_**I'm fine-!**_" Harry skittered away moments before the pillar burst into bits.

An impenetrable cloud of masonry dust filled the corridor, somewhat obscuring the boy's view. He was able to make out the giant's silhouette in the muted light of the torch lights ensconced along the hall. The troll, stumbling blindly upon its huge feet, apparently could not. It's club, however, continued to seek him out as it bashed wildly against the corridor walls.

"Have to get rid of this thing - it'll be a threat to us all for as long as it's here," He muttered. "But what could I...?"

Eying the empty classroom to his left, and glancing down the high staircase behind, the boy thought of an idea.

"_Fonticulus_," He whispered, dousing the length of stairs and the floor. Touching a hand lightly against the wetness, Harry sought the familiar cool pulse of his wand. It'd been a while since he'd experimented with this particular talent, and with the abrupt use it nearly wiped out the remainder of his magical reserves. Still, it responded - and yet again the sensations immersed him like a wave. Just as it had many times before the air around him instantly cooled.

As did the floor beneath him. Taking his hand away, the staircase glistened with a thick veil of ice. Stopping only to wave errant snowflakes aside, the young wizrd hurried into position.

"Blockhead!" He taunted as he stepped carefully to a dry patch of floor. Hefting a rock sized bit of rubble, he cast it into the thick dusty haze, catching the already enraged troll full in the face. "Still here!"

Predictably enough, the troll charged.

"Wait for it, wait for it," The boy murmured as the lumbering silhouette swiftly approached. His heartbeat increased in something between anticipation and fear. By now the troll had him in its sights and, thinking him cornered, barreled recklessly down the hall. Beads of sweat broke out upon his brow - tensing up, the boy prepared himself for an all out run. Just as it thundered out of the dusty cloud, Harry whipped his wand to the left.

"_Alohamora_!" He incanted at the classroom door. The boy dove through the open portal just as the befuddled troll skidded past. It gave a startled grunt as its heavy feet carried it over the icy floor and vanished down the flight of stairs. Something (the staircase rail?) gave away with a distinct crack, and then something roared as if it were falling into the depths. A crash of ceramic tiles sounded faintly from the first floor, and the deafening roar was silenced in mid-howl.

No doubt the whole castle had heard the troll's imminent demise.

"Time...To go," He told himself in ragged breaths.

Harry fled away from the classroom as voices sounded from somewhere down below.

"Susan!" He hissed as he stepped over the rubble into the loo. The redhead stood up startled from where she sat beside the fallen girl, whom he vaguely recalled belonged to House of Gryffindor. "She's not...?"

"N-no," Susan assured in a relieved tone, "She's scratched up quite a bit, and she's hurt, but I don't think it's anything lasting. If I didn't know better, I think she just...Fainted. Not that I really blame her, not with all this...Craziness going on. Harry, what happened? Are you alri-"

Harry pressed a cautionary finger over her lips.

"I really appreciate your concern - I'm quite fine," He said, stumbling in his haste, "Just...Really tired. Let's talk later. The teachers will be arriving shortly, and I think it best we not stay."

"But the troll! What happened to the troll...?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably.

"It..._Fell_."

Susan pondered over that one slowly. There was a distinct note of finality in his tone that told her exactly what became of the rampaging troll.

"Oh," She blinked, at a loss for words. "I - I see. I suppose we won't be seeing him any time soon..."

"Nope," Harry agreed.

"Well I'm glad you're not hurt," The girl sighed with a watery smile. "Just a moment..."

Biting her lip with reluctance, the redhead settled the Gryffindor in a comfortable position before following Harry out into the hall. The boy slid open the false wall behind the tapestry and Susan followed him in - just as Dumbledore and several teachers started to arrive on the scene.

There were shocked exclamations, but neither of them dared to linger for very long.

Quaking with adrenaline and shaking off the lingering effects of fear, the pair started off the passageway with no actual destination in mind. Wandering about the barren corridor for several minutes, it was Susan who decided to break the peace.

"I - I don't understand," She breathed. Her hand lay clutched over her heart. "Trolls aren't all that very bright...How did that thing get that far into the castle? Someone should've noticed..."

"Perhaps someone helped it along...?" Harry mused suspiciously.

"You don't suppose...," She hesitated, "Snape?"

"A bit of an odd coincidence he should come running up that out of bounds corridor while a troll was out on the loose. Might be a bit convenient, considering how much I dislike him, but..."

"Can't say I can't agree," The girl admitted.

"Whatever the case, I think its safe to say the troll's gone," Was Harry's quiet reply. He was not nearly as calm as he looked; his fingers dug painfully around the length of his wand, and his eyes roved the shadows as if he were on edge for another attack. Perhaps without realizing what he was doing, the young wizard had begun to lean against her shoulder. Susan leaned back into his touch, and felt strangely elated when the boy finally relaxed. "What a day, eh?"

"Oh yes, what a day," The girl chuckled despite herself. "Is there another way to the kitchens?"

Harry nearly stumbled on his own shoes.

"Y-you're still hungry?" The boy asked with barely restrained incredulity, "After..."

"No, not particularly," She shrugged. "But I could use a hot cup of cocoa...And maybe a game of cards."

Harry gave it some thought.

"Take a turn left here, and then straight until the next hall. I could...Use the elves' company as well."

"Will you tell me...How it went with troll then...?" Susan asked.

Some color had returned to the boy's pallid face.

"I promised, didn't I?"

"You did," She agreed. "Now come on, and put away your wand. We're a bit late, and I'm sure Twitchy and others are having a fit wondering where we went. Better late than never, right?"

"Certainly."

Harry and Susan set off down the corridor with a purpose in their steps.

"Er..." Susan faltered.

"What is it, Susan?"

"Happy Halloween?" The girl ventured.

In the darkness, the boy's lips gave an upward twitch.

"Happy Halloween, Susan."

A/N: Fights and altercations are a bit new to me, especially when it comes to fighting with spells. I've written stories where characters fight with blades, chains, obscure weapons and guns, and (sometimes) where characters clash with anachronistic weapons versus (somewhat) recent model guns, but nothing quite like this. Had a hell of a time writing this chapter, but it was worth it.

If anyone is still wondering why Harry is in Slytherin instead of Hufflepuff, remember what the Sorting Hat in this story (Chapter Five) said - "_Fearlessness abounds in your heart - so much so, that you would refuse to allow morals to stand between you and the things you love._" The hat, as you can see, wasn't kidding. I suppose you can all guess what that will mean...

Anywho, you know what to do. Review, review, review! Thank you for reading, and I hope to update soon. Lookin' forward to feedback from all of you. Thanks again. Sayonara!

P.S. As you can see, lots of Harry/Susan here. Was listening to Uno's Natsukage for a while. You'll have that to think for inspiring me to write this story in the first place. Thought the melody fit Susan's peaceful composure for this story.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

D/C: Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. It's as simple as that.

Upon their delayed arrival, the kitchens became a bustle of clattering dishes, clinking beakers, and a hubbub of merry activity. The fact that they had arrived late for the Halloween festivities didn't seem to faze their friends the House elves at all. Not even Twitchy, the matronly head of the Hogwarts kitchens, seemed to spare their tardiness anything more than a frown and a cursory shrug. Whether it was because the elves were accustomed to students and their tendency for delays, or whether the elves simply had no wish to intrude, Harry Potter and Susan Bones weren't all that sure. In any case, the stalwart duo were quite grateful and glad when potentially awkward questions were left unasked.

By all appearances it didn't seem as if the elves were even aware (or were much less informed) of the troll that had lumbered into the castle just a half hour before, as Twitchy and her cohorts were roaming about the kitchens in their usual high spirits. Having no heart to ruin their friends' festive moods, Harry and Susan had silently agreed to forego any mention of the events that'd occurred earlier that night.

Dinner progressed as orderly (or perhaps as disorderly) as one would expect from the all too excitable elves, although little was actually achieved in regards of the Halloween feast, as neither one of the Young masters had as yet reclaimed their appetites. Instead of requesting a feast fit for a king and queen, Harry and Susan settled for a simple platter of doughnuts, biscuits, and pie to go along with a pitcher of iced raspberry tea. To make it up to their crestfallen friends, Harry broke out his deck of playing cards and proceeded to shuffle it in a meaningful way. None of the elves mistook the invitation for what it was, and judging by the gleeful looks on their faces it didn't appear as if any of them were apt to decline.

Never the ones to disappoint, Harry and Susan set to dinner with a will while dealing out hands for the game. In no time at all everyone lost track of the time as round after round of Old Maid, Blackjack, and Poker were played (the elves were surprisingly determined to make it an even game.) Just when they thought they were reaching the climax of a tiebreaker, the wall mounted mantle clock rang several times, signaling the five minute bell before the start of curfew. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, and then thirty, and despite the knowledge of the hour the elves held their own. Ultimately, at nearly half past eleven, the first years finally folded their hands and conceded their friends the game.

The pair promptly departed the kitchens with an exchange of knowing looks and smiles, congratulating the dumbstruck elves whom barely remembered to bow the yearlings out in return.

"So...How are you feeling, Harry?" Susan tentatively asked once they were well on their way back to their dorms.

"I'm feeling..."

Stealing the redhead trudging at his side with a veiled look, Harry felt through his pockets for his hemlock wand. Grasping it gently by the handle, the soothing tingle of his magic flared in response to his touch. The delirious sensations immersed him briefly in its thrall, subtle but stronger than it'd been only hours before.

"Better," He admitted, breaking off from the dream-like haze. "I feel a lot better, as a matter of fact."

"Wouldn't have guessed from the way you played your cards tonight," The jovial girl teased. "You didn't look as if you were paying attention half the time. Really, declaring a Full House in the middle of Old Maid...For what it's worth, Harry, I'm really sorry I laughed," Amended the girl with an unconvincing grin. "It was just so funny at the time."

"I'm glad you found my performance so amusing," Harry carelessly replied, belying the truth of his words as he blatantly refused to meet her gaze. "Contrary to what your smile might suggest, Susan, I am not losing my touch. I just had a little difficulty focusing on the game."

"That much I could see," She conceded seriously. "Would you like to...Talk about it...?"

"...You can ask me outright, you know," The boy amicably replied. "It's always better for you to be clear than to leave me to interpret things on my own - It's not like I'd bite, after all."

"O-of course I know," Stammered the girl, flushing prettily while ducking her head. "It's just - I thought it might be rude to force the issue and ask."

"You worry too much," The boy intoned, although in truth he truly did appreciate the Hufflepuff's concern. "It's not like anything that transpired tonight is anything taboo, it's just..."

"Just what?" Curiosity compelled her to ask.

"...Complicated, I guess."

Struggling visibly for words, the boy tore his gaze down to his hands, staring intently as if they held all the answers there. Perhaps they had; she just didn't know - but in that moment it seemed he'd found what he was looking for, as he flexed all his fingers with a nod of his head.

"Hey, Susan?" Harry ventured, breaking the silence and halting the redhead in her steps.

"Mhmm?" She hummed. Twirling adorably around on the soles of her heels, Susan rounded expectantly upon the stalwart Slytherin, inadvertently forcing him to take a step back as the girl leaned close to peer at his face.

"I know it's getting late," He tentatively resumed, "And I know you're just curious to know about tonight and all, but before we get to all that...Would you like to see a magic trick?"

The redhead couldn't help but stare incredulously (if not amusedly) into the calm green eyes of her eccentric confidante.

Deciding not to ask whether he'd landed on his head at some point, Susan asked, "As in a muggle magic trick?"

"Can't say," Came his evasive reply. "It would be telling if I gave it away now, don't you think?"

Susan's eyes shifted nervously on their own accord.

"You wouldn't happen to be thinking of pranking li'l old me...Would you?"

Harry peered speculatively from over his glass's circular frames.

"And what makes you think that...?"

The redhead toyed with a loose strand of her hair, looking both bashful and coy all at once.

"It's nothing, really; just something I ask out of old habit. During their more colorful childhood years, Ernie and Zack used to pull 'practical jokes' on any unwitting soul who just happened to be around. They used to ask us the same question in such an innocent tone just before they roped us into one of their infernal pranks. Hannah and I learned our lesson after the first time they had us hanging by our heels, but all the other kids in our neighborhood weren't so quick to catch on..."

"Not so fond memories, I take it?" The Slytherin gently said.

"Uh-uh," The girl in turn vehemently shook her head.

"Oh," Said the boy, gazing up at the ceiling at bit of a loss. "I...Well...Don't suppose you'd be too willing to play along if I asked you to close your eyes, then, would you? Just for a moment?"

"..."

"For me?"

The redhead considered him for what felt like an eternity before her lips limned into an affable curve.

"Only because I trust you, Harry." She finally agreed.

Susan obediently closed her eyes and kept them closed even as she felt her dainty little hands become enveloped in his.

"You're not going through all this trouble just to hold hands, are you?" She said in a teasing tone.

Harry breathed a long suffering sigh and shook his head even as he felt the burning flush of color suffusing his cheeks. Recovering swiftly from the unfamiliar emotions (taking care to store them for safekeeping in the back of his mind,) he began to focus his attention upon an imaginary point just above the redhead's hands instead. The boy pausing briefly to catch a calming breath before he began the process of willing his magic to life. Much to the young Slytherin's relief, what little he'd recovered of his reserves flared obediently (albeit sluggishly) in response to his unspoken command. With a tug and a faint icy tingle like a cool Autumn breeze a budding snowdrop began to swirl into form. Glimmering brightly under the hall's ensconced lights, the tiny globule of dew wobbled into existence just over the surface of Susan's palm, dissolving and solidifying before it coalesced into a perfect six sided star. Feather light and invigoratingly cool to the touch, the tiny snowflake spun lazy circles in the center of her hands, weaving a trail of shimmering blue mist wherever it came into contact with her skin.

"Cut that out," The girl chuckled, batting blindly (and ineffectually) at what she thought were the boy's offending hands, "I thought this was supposed to be a magic trick, not a tickling spree..."

"Oh, Susan, Susan, you of little faith," Harry gently mocked, weaving past her flailing arms to retrieve the snowflake drifting in the air. "You really ought to know how committed I feel about keeping to my word. Do you doubt me still? Why not open your eyes, and have a look for yourself?"

"Don't mind if I do..."

With that said, Susan cracked opened her eyes...

And found herself speechless, irrevocably enthralled with the strange aurora lit glow emanating through his fingers like a heavenly blue light. Upon her first glance the redhead assumed that Harry had performed a simple (and admittedly brilliant) muggle illusionist's trick using a sliver of refractive glass, but as the mirrored surface continued to spin round and around on its axis the girl grew less and less sure. Glass didn't shimmer under the torch lights as if enshrouded in a thin layer of mist, nor did it possess such a cold blue exterior that wept softly like ice. Wonder slowly gave way to dawning comprehension, uncertainty, disbelief and intrigue, and it was all she could do to keep herself breathing even as her heart seemed to beat in the back of her throat.

"You like it? It's a pastime of mine I've been experimenting with for the past couple of months," He imparted, twirling the snowflake about his fingers with a fond and faraway look. "A little something I spent a good many hours practicing behind closed doors," The boy added with a pleased smirk. "Just to be clear, I don't intend to make this publicly known; it's not like anyone else ought to know, at any rate. So like all the misadventures we've had thus far-"

"It'll be our secret, just between ourselves," Susan solemnly pledged.

Admirably enough, the redhead barely betrayed any of the tell tale signs of shock. She was even trying her level best to appear unaffected and calm, although her hands were quite suspect as they fluttered to and fro, reminding him of moths dancing round a candle's flame. It was abundantly clear from the roving digits of her fingers (juxtaposed with the furtive movements of her eyes) that Susan wanted nothing more than to reach for the snowflake floating in the palm of his hands.

"Go right ahead," The boy coaxed, tempting her with his palms, "Feel free to have at it, if that's what you'd like."

As he had expected, the redhead needed no second bidding as she eagerly thrust her hands out to comply. With a bit of persuasion on Harry's part (by the way of pokes and prods) the snowflake bridged the gap between their fingers before it settled in the palms of her hands. Like a flower petal in the breeze the snowflake spun in lazy arcs, unhurried and at ease, appearing at once natural and unnatural as it swayed on its own, roaming wherever it pleased.

"Merlin," Susan breathed at long last.

"Oh no, no, no; there's no Merlin here," The young Slytherin said as they resumed their walk. "Perhaps," His stoic features split forth into a feral grin, "You must have mistaken me for someone else?"

"Prat," The Hufflepuff snickered with much of the fire of her usual self.

"What's that? I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that...Prat, was it? No; talented, you must have said."

"And arrogant, too," The girl mockingly pronounced.

"Channeling Snape, are we?" He lazily drawled, bright green eyes flickering under the firelights.

"You are intolerable," Susan rebuffed, or at least she tried to while repressing back a laugh. "But seriously, all kidding and jokes aside, this truly is an impressive bit of spell work, Harry. It actually feels like I've got a little piece of winter right here in the palm of my hands! Guess your knowledge of getting around in Hogwarts hasn't been the only thing you've striven to learn outside of class." Susan's knowing grin lingered for several beats before it furrowed into a concerned frown. "You haven't been visiting the Restricted Section of the Library, have you?"

"...Honestly?" The boy asked, tilting his head.

"No, lie to me," The redhead sarcastically cajoled. "Tell me a story of make believe, or dazzle me with fairytales..."

"Fairytales, eh?" Harry sounded distinctly (and yet detachedly) amused as Susan tucked the snowflake snugly behind her ear. "Well I must confess, I do have a story to tell - and it begins not long ago in the sleepy suburbs of an any-burg in the heart of Surrey, where a little boy lived in a cupboard; wondering, always wondering, why he felt like he didn't belong..."

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

The wee hours of All-Hallows-Eve passed on without further incident, and in that time Harry recounted his story to an enrapt audience of one. All told it was a startling new experience for him to reveal so much about his past, his relatives, and the true extent of his magical talents; but from start to finish the boy felt truly (and oddly) glad that he chose to tell her as much as he did. Disclosing everything he'd held in from the very beginning and confiding it all upon a trusted friend was a relief unlike any he'd ever felt - and no matter how much his narrative seemed to stretch the fine line between fantasy and reality, Susan clung to his every word as he described the hard life he had once led with the Dursleys; the manner in which he had toppled the intruding mountain troll; and the discreet (yet not quite discreet) things he often did to the Weasleys, or Malfoy's gang, or anyone else who chanced to harass them in the hall. Suffice it to say Harry talked about many things. The words just seemed to pour right out of his own mouth.

It was unexpected and overwhelming (and sometimes funny but mostly sad) to hear all the things her friend wanted to say. Not once did it occur to the redhead to interrupt him while Harry spoke. About halfway through Susan realized she couldn't well disbelieve. She was an open minded girl and proud of it, and she had only to reach for the snowflake nestled behind her ear to confirm the truth of his words. By the time his tale concluded Susan had a deeper understanding of what it might actually have been like to walk in her companion's shoes.

"So," The boy had awkwardly said afterwards. "How much of my story..._Do_ you actually believe?"

Harry needn't have had any last minute worries, as Susan replied with five concise words.

"All of it, of course."

Knowing she meant those reassuring words Harry's guarded expression visibly melted and relaxed. It was as if a stack of bricks had been lifted from his shoulders and his heart. He certainly looked the part when they finally bade each other goodnight at the archway branching off in the directions of their respective dorms. Despite the lateness of the hour (and the overpowering urge to simply throw herself into bed) Susan hesitated briefly at the junction separating the two halls. She listened carefully into the stillness...

Then smiled faintly as the soft cadence of a whistle drifted down from the heart of the Slytherin dorms.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Before settling down to bed, Susan placed the snowflake atop her pink and white bedside dresser, sadly lamenting the fact that the fragile little thing probably wouldn't last the following November morn. She stole one rueful glance at it from beneath the sheets and fell asleep thinking it would be her last.

It wasn't.

Susan woke in the early hours of dawn to see the tiny snowflake trailing a halo of stardust right above her head.

"How odd," The Slytherin commented first thing when she'd shown him later that very same morn. "Well, this is something you don't see every day. I didn't suspect such a thing was even possible. And to think I have been lax with my practices lately...You really ought to keep it, you know," Said the boy with one of his oddly detached but amused looks. "Perhaps I'm just imagining things, but it already seems rather attached to you."

With the twinkling fairy light darting through her hair the redhead found that very easy to believe.

Like a stubborn but adorable child, the snowflake never seemed to stray away from the young witch's side. It made Susan wonder whether the tiny thing didn't have a life of its own. Perhaps it did; it floated freely about her person whenever she hung out with Harry or whenever she had time alone. Whenever her housemates were present or whenever she strode through the bustling halls the snowflake would settle and grow still, a pretty hair ornament hidden behind her ear.

From the very first week of November on the redhead was rarely seen without the icy hued glint in her vibrant red locks. Most students presumed it was simply a fancy hairclip in passing. That presumption alone didn't even stop her peers from the older years from turning back to get a closer look, though thankfully enough for her the attention was short lived.

Which was admittedly a relief for the odd Slytherin and the affable Heiress of Bones...

...But not so much so for the young Gyffindor Granger, who suddenly found herself at wit's (and sanity's) end once the spotlight of attention hung over her head like an ominous dark cloud. Once she'd been cleared from the hospital wing the heckled first year had looked as if she'd wanted nothing more to do than to stash the memory of Halloween night into a lock box, launch it straight down a bottomless river, and never dwell on it _**ever again**_. Despite her wishes, none of her Housemates proved all that willing to comply. It was clear from the get go though (at least to Harry and Susan) that the poor Gryffindor truly didn't know all that much that had transpired that very night, other than the obvious - the girl had fainted during her ordeal after all. The fact that the members of the school staff neither acknowledged nor denied involvement in ridding the school of the mountain troll told the Young Masters all that they needed to know.

The Professors were just as baffled and at a loss as their students. The only difference was that the faculty hid their uncertainty well. No doubt the adults were wondering how they could've let this travesty happen. Harry and Susan had certainly been on the same page. Of course they had their own ideas; neither could discount the unusual happenstance of Professor Snape sneaking off to the forbidden corridor. Whatever business he had had there had not been concluded; or so the pair had come to believe. If it was any indication, the Potions Master had become even more volatile than he'd been ever before, and he had begun to walk with a noticeable limp. So Snape had tried to get past the three headed dog...

But what exactly had his Head of House been after, and what was it that the Cerberus was left to guard? There was something niggling at the back of his mind, some memory just begging to be released. Something someone had once said...

He would later be glad that Susan was such a Quidditch buff that she'd brought him along to join her and her blonde best friend, because it was there during the season's opening game that Harry caught sight of Hagrid cheering from the Gryffindors stands, and upon seeing his giant friend once again the many pieces of the puzzle had started to click in his mind.

"_Ah, here we are. Gringotts, Wizarding Bank!...There's no place more secure in our world than Gringotts...Ceptin' Hogwarts, of course._"

"_Er...Sorry Mr. Hornswaggle, but I've got a letter here from Professor Dumbledore...It's about...," Shifting under Harry's guarded glance, he mumbled, "Vault seven hundred thirteen._"

"_...Prolly best yeh speak o' this to no one, eh, Harry?_"

Recalling those tidbits of information had immediately set the young lad into thinking. If what Hagrid said was true, whatever the grubby little package was had to be valuable if it'd been removed from the safekeeping of Gringotts, and if it actually was what he thought it was being guarded in the school, then the seemingly innocuous little object had to be a thing of particular importance. The fact that a respected Head of House was willing to risk it all to steal from underneath the 'Great Professor' Dumbledore's nose unsettled the Slytherin even more. Hogwarts was definitely not as secure as they'd been led to believe...

But that was neither Harry nor Susan's immediate concern (they were students, not teachers; and they weren't supposed to perform the Professors' jobs after all), and a good thing too since the disturbing news did nothing to spoil their spirits during the weeks leading up to Christmas. Winter met them halfway past December with a flurry of ice and snow, which the redhead took full advantage of by dragging the boy out to play in the cold. Hannah Abbott (who'd finally had had it with her Hufflepuff cohorts in class) had eagerly invited herself along, curious to get to know her childhood friend's friend.

"Hullo Harry, I'm sure you remember me," The blonde had greeted the boy that day with her usual infectious cheer. "My name's Hannah Abbott, and it's nice that we finally meet. Susan's told me a whole lot about you, but I'm still very curious to know several really important things..."

"Oh? Is that so?" The boy had asked, raising an inquiring brow, "And what might I ask is it that you would really like to know?"

"Well, for starters..."

Producing a length of parchment from somewhere within her robes, Hannah decided to start off slowly, so as not to drive up the boy up the bend.

"Let's start off easy; what's your favorite color, and what are your feelings for my best friend?"

The blonde had waited patiently as the boy just stared and stared. It'd almost been an hour before the boy had looked Hannah in the eye again...

For the Young Master that day had marked the most peculiar start of an unusual sort of friendship. Though clearly unsettled by his first encounter with the perky spitfire blonde, Harry eventually got into the swing of things as the girls introduced him to the simple joys of snow angels, snowball fights, and mugs of hot chocolate as they laid back around a fire, lounging amidst the falling snow. He never did reveal his thoughts on the blonde, but despite what he may or may not have felt about the girl, Harry took the effort to welcome Hannah into their fold, and that alone touched Susan more than he would ever know.

Three weeks passed the trio by in surprisingly short order, and before they knew it the end of the school term had come to pass. Christmas cheer could be seen and felt wherever one happened to be in the school, with Christmas trees in the common rooms, and tinseled streamers hanging along the corridors. Professors Flitwick and McGonagall (with the help of Hagrid and a small band of the Hogwarts' elves) spent many hours sprucing up the Great Hall with mistletoes, and candles, and ornaments of every sort. It was only too bad that few people were sticking around to see the show, as only a handful of students were staying behind for the holidays.

Between Hogwarts and the Dursleys, Harry's mind had already been made. Hannah and Susan had packed their bags and were ready to go, yet Susan chose to linger behind on the platform, whispering words to Hannah who grinned and nodded, winking roguishly at Harry as she boarded the train. Just as the other students were stepping in the redhead lingered and took hold of the boy's hands, smiling as he returned the gesture with a subtle but responsive squeeze.

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

"And merry Christmas to you too, Susan," The boy politely said, pausing as he felt the edges of a tiny pink object falling into the palm of his hand. "Hello, and what's this little thing...?"

"What's it look like?" The redhead beamed.

Uncertain whether it was a good idea to try and shake it, Harry honestly replied, "...It looks like a postage stamp to me."

"Oops," Susan giggled. "Dopey me. Hold a moment; totally forgot I had shrunk it. _Engorgio_."

The Young Master stared as the little pink square trembled in his hands, rocking back and forth as if it were a firecracker about to explode. The redhead winked and mouthed a sly, "Wait for it," just as the tiny pink object began to shape and reform. In the blink of an eye Harry was holding a thin cloth wrapped parcel topped with an adorable red bow.

"I-impressive," He remarked, voice cracking despite his emotional control. "And...," He paused, intrigued by the odd but familiar fluttering sensation of lightness he felt, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Harry," Susan beamed.

Cocking his head curiously (even now he had trouble believing it was his gift) Harry asked, "For me?"

"Nooo, it's for Malfoy." The girl tapped him lightly on the head. "You don't see me handing out gifts to anyone else, do you? Come on, this is for you. Go right ahead; open it. It's only fair; after all," She grinned, stroking the snowflake in her hair, "I got my present early."

Skillfully untying the ribbon (it was a faded silk hair tie, old and worn, but for whatever reason he had already decided to keep it) Harry removed the contents of the bag to reveal a leather bound book. The embroidered cover had no title to speak off but flipping the first page open told him all.

"..."

The redhead felt slightly apprehensive as the boy stared, silently enrapt with the tome.

"It's nothing special," Susan admitted, fidgeting with the ends of her cloak, "Nothing you won't learn next year or the year after that; but I thought you might like a head start, and a little more variety with our games in the thicket. But if you'd like, I could stop by Diagon Alley and-"

"Like I said once before, you worry too much," Harry calmly enthused, preventing further protests with a finger pressed to her lips, "And the offer is appreciated, if unnecessary. I'm sorry I made you worry; I just couldn't help but like what I was seeing. So many different spells, and from the handwriting I'd say you wrote every word. Not to knock on your House, Susan, but did the Sorting Hat ever peg you for Ravenclaw?" Harry hid a smile, no longer concerned as to why it pleased him so much to see his companion blush. "You wrote this all from...?"

"Good memory," She purred, pleased with the turn of events. "Aunt Amelia taught me well."

"And so she did," The boy said, fondly flashing back to Ron Weasley and the opening feast. "Hmm, looks like someone's been holding back during Wizarding tag..."

"Oh, that's rich," The redhead said, quirking her lips. "Pot? This is teakettle. You're black."

"Right, good memory indeed," He cajoled. "Last I checked, that's supposed to go the other way around."

Whatever retort the girl was about to make was drowned out by the train's whistle, signaling its final departure for anyone still left on the platform to hear. Harry helped Susan on to the Hogwarts Express and followed sedately along the tracks as she reappeared from a back window.

"Before I forget, send your Aunt my regards," The Slytherin said, quickening his pace as the train began to chug. "As for your troublesome best friend you can tell her I said behave!"

"No, better not. Knowing her, Little Miss Mischief might take that as a challenge," The redhead laughed. Fighting to be heard over the wind, she cried, "Happy holidays, Harry!"

"Take care Susan, and thank you. Enjoy yourself for the both of us," He called over the din of the rushing engine.

Harry returned the wave from his closest companion as the Hogwarts Express started to take off with a gradually increasing speed. He hung back by the rails as he watched the train go, and stayed long after the recognizable red engine was lost from sight. He finally came to when he realized the snow had once again begun to fall, but he only smiled as he set off for the castle, losing himself along the way in Susan's book.

"I'll see again you in two weeks," Harry said, relaxing amidst the flurry of Mid-Winter's snow.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Once the holidays had truly begun the Young Master delighted in the prospect of having the entire Slytherin dorm (and possibly the castle) all to himself. He had seen virtually every member of his House packing their bags and heading for home just the day before, and, thinking no one else had business to come around to his side, decided to get a head start on his latest avenue of study. The boy knew it was unlikely for him to master all the materials in Susan's spell book before the end of two weeks, but that didn't necessarily mean he wasn't excited enough not to try.

Naturally, with those thought in mind Harry ended up a bit distracted. The Young Master was so enthralled with the success of shrinking and expanding his trunk (and doing it over and over again) that he missed the light padding of soft footfalls approaching his bed.

"_Reducio_, _engorgio_! _Reducio_, _engorgio!_"

A single elegant brow arched visibly as the raven haired wizard practiced gleefully with his wand.

"So, even someone like you can be a child at heart," Her cool voice denoted, a hint of wry amusement belied in her tone. "Nice spell work, by the way. Been learning from Bones?"

"Good morning, Greengrass," The boy greeted, hardly missing a beat. Of all the people he knew Daphne Greengrass was the one person he least understood. She regularly mingled with the sort of people he despised, and she shared their pride and arrogance and conceit; and yet somehow she was so dissimilar from the likes of Nott, Parkinson, and Malfoy, all of whom benefited from their families' fortunes and name. Harry still wasn't sure how someone who could put him on edge could almost be considered a friend. "Aren't you up early today?"

"For good reason, Potter," She said, casually tossing aside the flowing locks of her straight blonde hair. "And it's not early; it's ten in the morning, and you seem to be the only one in bed. Don't tell me you forgot what day it is today?"

"And what makes you think I did?" He said, fingering the embroidered edges of the leather bound book.

Daphne shrugged noncommittally, not that he could see the gesture with his back still turned.

"Oh, in that case, I suppose you won't mind if I snuck a peek at your presents for you," Said the hawk-eyed blonde, stalking off.

"Good," He called out after her, "If the Weasley Twins sent me something, you'll be the first to know!"

Harry carefully stowed Susan's gift into the confines of his robes before heading downstairs to the Slytherin common room, where he found Daphne crouched right next to the Christmas tree, rummaging through a small pile of presents. Seeing the unwrapped pile on the sofa, the Young Master realized with some resignation that the willful girl had already blazed through her gifts and had taken the liberty to start on his own.

"I should probably be getting angry about now," Harry said, favoring her with a jaundiced eye.

"You're not going to, though, because _**you**_ as good as invited _**me**_. Besides, it's not my fault you decided to take your own bloody time," Said the upright Slytherin with an unrepentant smirk. "Now let's see...Ah, saved this one especially for you."

The Young Master stared doubtfully as Daphne dragged a rather long thin parcel from under the tree. It was wrapped immaculately with vibrant silver gift wrappings with a flowing green ribbon looped around each end. Harry had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what it was...

"Mine? How do you know it's not yours?" He evenly said. "This one doesn't have name tags on it."

"Really?" Daphne frowned, inspecting it's length. "Well that's annoying. It's yours, anyway; a little something from me."

An awkward minute of stillness ensued as she watched the boy carefully unwrapping her gift. Once unraveled, the boy whistled softly and bit his lip in a decidedly uncomfortable manner.

"You _**really**_ shouldn't have...," He quietly said, revealing the length of a broom.

"Oh, you mustn't think like that," She said, breathing on her nails and buffing them against her sleeve. "You don't fly all that much, but from what little I've seen you are natural in the air. Besides, you have a habit of staring up at the sky; why not be one with it?"

"My memories can sometimes get a little hazy, but I do remember hearing us first years aren't supposed to be carrying around our own brooms..."

"So don't. Just shrink it for now and stow it in your trunk; it's what I would do. I was going to volunteer to teach you the charm myself, but you already seem to have a handle on things."

"...There is no way I could convince you to take this back, is there?" The Young Master said, breathing a sigh.

"Not unless you intend to insult me," Daphne answered seriously. "You wouldn't have given Bones' little gift back, would you?"

Harry shifted imperceptibly, puzzled as to how his Housemate always seemed to know so much. He deigned not to ask nor did he show how much her words had actually offended him.

"Well in any case...," He said, trying to smile instead, "Thank you kindly, Greengrass. Out of simple curiosity, how did you manage to bring this into school? You'd have been in trouble if someone had found out."

"It isn't that hard when you have the right contacts," The blonde Slytherin dismissively said. "Especially when you've got help from the older years. Like it? It's a Moontrimmer. Fine broom, not the sleekest or the fastest, but it's said to be the easiest to handle, even in the worst weather conditions. They're closing down that particular line; be a rarity by third year."

"Could be dead useful though..."

"Eh?"

"Don't mind me," Harry said, his mask firmly set in place. "Just thinking a few things over in my head."

"..."

"What? You're not suddenly offended that I'm keeping my thoughts to myself, are you?"

Daphne shook her head, but somehow he doubted she'd heard a word of what he'd just said. She was staring avidly at what he thought was one of her gifts, a rather odd looking cloak. It shone in gleaming folds, dappled brown on the inside and silver gray on the out, and it flowed through her fingers as easily as it might have her own silky hair. Harry touched it gently, and frowned. It felt so much like water that had been woven into silk.

"Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to try that on?"

The blonde Slytherin blinked as if she'd forgotten that the boy had ever been there.

"It's not mine," She admitted in an oddly subdued tone. "It's one of yours...Came with this note."

Harry didn't hesitate to examine the letter, which was written on an inconspicuous little note card in an unfamiliar looping script.

"_Your father left this in my possession before he died_." The Young Master bit back a frown and an inward wince. "_It is time it was returned to you. Use it well. A very Merry Christmas to you_...?"

Frowning, Harry held his hands out to receive the cloak. Daphne obliged, tossing it into his arms. They both visibly started in shock as his hands vanished into the soft material. Withdrawing his hands hastily away, Harry was relieved when his fingers came out still whole.

"Ooh, someone's going all out to spoil you," The normally taciturn ice princess murmured, expression locked in a daze. "I can't imagine who would just give away such a thing, but anyone with a proper magical upbringing would know that those things are extremely rare. Never imagined I'd be seeing an invisibility cloak up close, and so soon." Childish wonder flickered in her arctic blue eyes. "Wish I had one of those..."

"..."

Puzzlement flitted across Daphne's pallid features when the boy made no move to try the cloak on. Her intrigue turned to disbelief as her Housemate placed the cloak back into her hands.

Noting the bewildered widening of her eyes, Harry clarified, "I can guess what you're thinking, Greengrass, and before you jump to conclusions just listen; I am not simply handing this invisibility cloak to you. Susan and I might not have any real use for this sort of thing, but I feel it would be an insult and a pity if I just left something so precious to collect dust at the bottom my trunk. Since you seem to appreciate it so much, I'm willing to entrust my father's cloak to you. My only conditions are that you keep that safe and secret to yourself, and give it back should either Susan or I ask for it in a time of need. Having said that, I won't tell you how you should or shouldn't use it; I'll leave that up to you. Just try not to get yourself into trouble."

The Young Master had already collected his pile of presents when Daphne regained the ability to speak.

"Potter, this is...," She stopped, just catching herself. "Not to sound unthankful, but why...?"

"I get the feeling you've always dreamed about what it would be like to go wherever you pleased, unnoticed and undisturbed; invisible," He said, heading straight for the stairs. "Luckily for me, I've already had the chance to live that particular dream."

"What...?"

"Merry Christmas, Greengrass."

Slinging his new broom over his shoulder, Harry retired to enjoy his gifts in the comfort of his dorm.

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A/N: What a hectic couple of months to end (and begin) a hectic year! So many headaches (literally; felt like a balloon was stuck in my head)....But thank you for your patience. Hope this was worth the wait! Believe me when I say I didn't intend to take _**FOREVAH**_ to complete this chapter. I have had an incredible twenty complete versions of this particular chapter alone, and each one began and ended _**differently**_. Just because I was trying to decide how Harry should react to all the situations in this particular chapter. Between Versions 9.1 to 9.20 (and between the ones I lost to writer's block, faulty computer equipment/internet connection, and my worst enemy during the hottest of months, rolling blackouts), I felt this edit called to me best. It wasn't an easy choice; hope you like what I eventually chose.

It's late, but I might as well say it. Thank you all for sticking around, and have a happy late new year. ^-^

Small Notes:

-Moontrimmer was mentioned somewhere in one of the Harry Potter books, or at least that's what I've been told. Said to be something mentioned by Madam Hooch, so obviously it isn't my original idea.

-The deal with the tiny snowflake (I think) is my own original idea; it won't be just a portent of what Harry will be able to do later on...

-I did not choose Hemlock necessarily because of it's fame as a plant poison; that didn't even occur to me at first, because there's another property to that particular type of wood.

-I guess I don't have to spell out for you what the most important developments in this chapter might mean for the future...For now, I'll leave that to the imagination of you. ^-^


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

A/N: Hahahahaha! Thought I'd abandoned this story, did you?! No chance in hell, suckers! Let's continue, and now on to the tale!  
To Laura Wood of England: this chapter is for you, old friend.

D/C: Let me say it in simple English: me no own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling does. It's as simple as that.

Like a flashing beacon in the dead of night, a single Galleon rose in a lazy arc in the deserted dorm, twirling up towards the ceiling with a glint of gold before cascading back down into an invisible abyss. A slim disembodied hand winked briefly into existence, and with a deft flick of long painted nails the coin went spiraling up once more, and as swiftly as it fell the Galleon vanished into nothingness once again. Unbeknownst to the denizens of the castle a verdict was being rendered somewhere within the Slytherin dorms, and the final say of authority was going to be decided upon by a simple game of chance.

"Decisions, decisions," A cool, collected voice clucked into the emptiness of the room. "Heads or tails, which will it be? So many things to do, so little time to see. There's never enough time in the world..."

_Cling!_

"I suppose that's why we're taught to make the most it."

For what was to be the third and final time gold glimmered end over end, contrasting with the shadows of the dark. Unlike before, however, the Galleon did not disappear altogether. Neither did the hand that snaked out to catch it.

"So...Heads - we try something different. Always had my eyes on the Potions classroom cupboards. Wonder if someone around here at least had the sense to try to keep them locked? Tails..."

As one five delicate fingers uncurled revealing the embossed surface of the gold Galleon. Instead of the proud seal of the Ministry, the gilded image of a phoenix taking wing stood in stark relief within the palm of the girl's hand.

"Well, well, well," The offhanded voice continued, sounding pleased. "How fortuitous - tails it is."

Heels thumped hurriedly against the dark green carpeting as the invisible presence began to make its way out of the Slytherin dorms. There were only sixty minutes in an hour, and only so many hours on the clock to spend. Why waste any more? She had spent all her waking hours for the past four days savoring the indescribable sensations of what it was like to be invisible - invisible, and free. Free to make her own choices; free to do whatever she pleased - and perhaps for the first time in her short young life Daphne Greengrass' heart did not go wanting.

...Not that she was about to admit as much to the rest of the world. Certain appearances had to be kept, after all. Besides, it was not like she was an unruly child. The blonde was simply born a natural free spirit; a little curious, a bit adventurous, and perhaps a tad contrary (definitely not headstrong.)

She was also an extremely talented girl.

How many aspiring young witches or wizards could claim that they learned the first half of The Standard Book of Spells just by watching the grownups perform the everyday charms in the comfort of their own sprawling ancestral home? And two years before she'd received her Hogwart's letter at that! Daphne had once considered impressing the adults by letting them in on her extraordinarily proud feat, but after a week of careful deliberation the youthful blonde had deemed it best to keep that thought right under her hat. She was not entirely convinced that her highborn parents would take her learning magic by her lonesome very well, especially when it came to light that she'd been "practicing" with her mother's wand. To defy convention and hence tradition was most unlady-like and improper, if the edicts of pureblood society were to be believed; and off the top of her head she was able to recite each and everyone.

And there were absolutely no doubts in the blonde's mind her dedication to the old ways; there were no uncertainties to be had about that - but the one thing that she believed in more above all other things...

...Was believing first and foremost in herself.

"It's not about who you are that really holds you back," Reasoned the invisible girl as she ascended a short flight of steps. "It's what everyone thinks you are that ultimately does - that's why I never take stock in any of the things that other people have said."

Quieting down at the sound of activity around the corner, Daphne crept cautiously along the wall so as not to collide into anyone (or anything) coming in from the adjacent hall. Her concerns were unfounded; it was only a pair of prefects loitering by the entranceway. She snorted derisively in passing as she took in the state of their disheveled cloaks. Perhaps a lesson in diligence (and propriety) needed to be observed? Deciding to disabuse the notion that ignorance was bliss, the blonde strengthened her resolve and made her move. The snogging prefects (Hufflepuffs, the lot of them - real credits to their house!) did not feel the breeze that overtook them in the passageway, nor did they feel a comforting weight missing from their robes.

"Finders keepers," The blonde sang sung, blending back into the shadows under the guise of Harry's cloak. Leaving herself a mental note to thank the boy once again, Daphne swiftly pocketed her ill gotten gains and skirted around the oblivious pair, fleeing down the passageway to the third junction at the end of the hall. She was humming several bars of a tune up the enchanted staircase when the distant cries of the dismayed couple echoed from the dungeons deep down below.

"Oh, settle down you, two. You'll get your precious back eventually; hopefully soon," The blue eyed Slytherin enthused, twirling their wands between her fingers obviously uncaring to their plight. "All it's going to cost the lot of you are a few simple favors for me. But alas first things first; I've got to figure out what I need before I start on this little venture of mines..."

A 'little venture' couldn't begin to describe the scope of what the blonde was trying to achieve - there was a reason why it wasn't a part of the regular class curriculum after all - and the less was said about it was probably for the best. Luckily for her she didn't have to look very far to get all the information that she needed. She'd wandered into the perfect place on a mere whim just two nights ago. Just to test the waters, so to speak. Initially she hadn't been expecting much at all.

"I never would've thought that breaking in would be this simple," Daphne mused, stepping off the staircase once she realized she'd reached the fourth floor, "Nor could I have ever imagined that this of all places would become like my own second home."

The Library door hinges barely creaked in protest as the invisible girl slipped in, passing the front desk and several rows of shelves with nary a backward glance, her destination already close at hand. It wasn't too long before Daphne came to stop in front of an enclosure at the back of the Library consisting of a single wide paneled wall lorded over by a pair of elaborately crafted doors.

"Here we are..."

She actually smiled as she reached for the brass handles.

Blue eyes flickered with anticipation as the old fashioned latch-plate depressed beneath her questing fingers, allowing the twin set of double doors to swing inward, beckoning for the girl to step in. Row upon row of shelves - brimming with countless tomes arcane and old - greeted her once more upon her entrance, stretching high above her like labyrinth walls for as far as her eyes could see. There were no lamps nor candles to guide her way, and barely any radiance from the slit windows even with the moonlight streaming in. It was quiet; oppressively quiet, so much so that the pitter patter of her light footfalls seemed to echo like a hundred tiny voices whispering her secrets from within the very confines of the darkened room. Fixed into the doorway overhead was a smallish bronzed frame with two boldly printed letters written across the front.

"Restricted Section," It reproachfully proclaimed.

Daphne reigned back a smirk as she briefly mulled over the inaccuracy of the sign. Having been raised a proper young lady, the girl simply refused to let her amusement show - but that didn't mean she didn't feel the wellspring of laughter burbling deep from within. Wizards, she had to admit, were sometimes so brilliant they were backwards sometimes. Just what was the point of the Restricted Section if no one even bothered to ward the bloody thing with impregnable locks and charms?!

It was mind boggling! It was mental! It was also, above all else, terribly convenient.

"Lumos."

With that simple command a soft strobe of brilliance flared from the tip of her willow and dragon heart string wand. It lit up the aisle as well as the surrounding shelves, swaying slightly as the girl swept in. Daphne took a second to shine the light over the face of her watch on her way past the first row.

"Eight fifty," She murmured, surprised. In all her eagerness to leave Daphne hadn't paid any heed to the time in which she had left. For once the blonde had set off early - maybe a little too early, as a matter of fact - but now that she thought of it the girl decided she couldn't have picked a better time. After all, the sooner she concluded her business here in the library the sooner she'd be able to slip back into bed. Heavens knew there was plenty more of the castle for the young heiress to explore, but in all the excitement of the past few days the blonde had yet to answer the sandman's seductive call.

She figured the world of dreaming could wait for at least another day.

Little did Daphne know, sleep would not come easy for the girl in the following nights yet to come...

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The soft click of locking doors preceded in her wake as the blonde fled out of the library, taking care to flatten out the folds of her housemate's wonderful cloak. Burning the midnight oil four nights in a row had finally begun to take its toll, it seemed, for not even a swig of Pepper-Up Potion (compliments of Madame Pomphrey's stores) managed to ward off the edge of sleep as well as it had so many nights before. Perhaps it was high time to catch up on her beauty sleep, Daphne reflected, as she valiantly fought down a yawn, her previous thoughts of research going adrift in favor of silken bed sheets back in the Slytherin dorms. Thus preoccupied, the invisible slip of a girl hardly reacted in time to the sounds of footfalls approaching swiftly from the opposite end of the hall.

"...Y-y-you know this r-really is quite absurd, S-S-Severus," Whispered a tremulous sounding voice.

"Oh, don't play innocent with me Quirinus, this isn't the first time we've spoken, after all...," Retorted another in a soft dispassionate tone. From around the bend less than five body lengths away came the twin silhouettes of two easily recognizable professors walking astride one another, obviously engaged in a rather heated discussion. "So have you decided yet...?"

"But t-there's nothing to d-decide..." The turbaned Quirrell plaintively cried.

"...Devised a way around Hagrid's infernal beast, then?" Professor Snape interrogated with a scowling eye.

"A-a-as I've said before, w-why would I want the s-s-stone....?"

"_You_ know perfectly well why _you_ would want it, Quirinus, the only question is..."

Very fleetingly, Daphne wondered what nonsense the D.A.D.A instructor and her own Head of House were talking about and realized as they started heading up to her that she really couldn't care less. Quickly reminding herself that the two men couldn't see her (but would most certainly _**feel**_ her if she chose to stay still in the middle of the hall), Daphne silently backtracked down the corridor, cursing the soft click of her heels as she turned the other way. A set of footsteps stopped.

"W-w-what was that?!" The jumpier of the two professors squeaked.

"Obviously your imagination," The Potions Master grated irritably (she nearly gave herself away sighing in relief that Snape hadn't heard), "Now will you stop jumping at every shadow!"

"S-S-Severus, you know that I-"

"I grow tired of playing games, Quirrell," Snape hissed, backing the turbaned professor against the wall. The man abruptly fell still, wondering if he had just imagined the slight breeze that suddenly blew past his shoulder in the hall. "...You know what I already know; it's only a matter of time before you slip..."

Releasing his hold over the stuttering professor, Professor Snape wordlessly departed down the fourth floor corridor, intent on continuing his patrol. For reasons that even he could not understand the man felt oddly compelled to check for a missing weight within the pockets his robes. He was distinctly puzzled to feel overwhelming relief as he grasped the handle of his blackthorn wand. Snape was still pondering over this strange development on his way to the lower floors when the silent peace was suddenly interrupted by a familiar bumbling professor's screams.

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Unbeknownst to poor unfortunate Quirrell who, strangely enough, was flinching back in terror at the screams of displeasure ("_**You imbecile! You fool!**_") echoing off the back of his head, the current bane of his existence had not fled as far as one might logically think. Due the lengthening shadows surrounding the fourth floor, one would've been hard pressed to notice a slightly ajar door easily overlooked on the passage's left hand side, at the end of a dead end. If one were to take a cursory peek into the room, all they would've seen would be the obscure silhouettes of desks and chairs lined up against the wall.

It looked like an unused classroom; had the feel of an unused classroom; and the scent of dust and chalk made it seem like one as well. Truth in fact, it wasn't. There was one thing stored in that room that had absolutely no business being there. Something old, something odd, something - dare one say it - dangerous?

"Ah, how I've longed to find a spare," The girl cooed blissfully unawares, examining her latest prize. "Such a waste you were in _that_ wizard's hands. Petrified by his very own subject! But don't worry, and don't fret. I'm not afraid of my shadow like him," Enthused the blonde as she ran a delicate finger over the length of Quirrell's cherry wood wand. "You are in perfectly good hands now."

Deeming it safe to venture out (fifteen minutes in silence felt like an eternity to wait), Daphne made haste to leave the room...Up until her curiosity was piqued by what seemed like furtive movement in the corner of her eye. No, not movement, she realized, turning away from the door, but light. Reflected light; a moonbeam from a slit window sill bouncing brilliantly off the gilded gold frame of the most magnificent mirror that Daphne had ever seen. It was beautiful; it was wonderful; it was truly radiant. A work of art - a masterpiece. Why then, was such an object of so exquisite beauty being secluded like a caged bird in here?

Letting the cloak slide past her shoulders to the floor, Daphne stepped tentatively up towards the mirror, intending only to admire its craftsmanship up close. She reached a dainty hand out to touch the polished surface - and when the girl did, her eyes unavoidably strayed upon her own reflection. All sense of reality in the young heiress' world instantly faded with the fragile sound of a gasp.

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Barring the unexpected run in with the troll, it had been a relaxing couple of months for the self proclaimed Young Master of Hogwarts. Four months of happy memories shared in good company; four months experiencing firsthand the intricacies of magic; and four months without a worry in the world - at ease, in contentment, and at peace. Harry Potter could not have asked for a better end to the year.

January first was less than a fortnight away. Spring was coming in to herald the new year, and winter was leaving to usher out the old. He of all people knew this to be true - yet it didn't feel that way to him.

The very essence of winter sang strongly within his veins. It's alluring call, a soft soothing caress before, had only grown stronger with his "independent studies" in recent months. Maybe the Sorting Hat had known what it was talking about it...

Maybe he would become a force of nature one day.

"In time," The boy patiently said. "Right now, I think I can just settle for being at peace with myself."

Soft cushions squeaked as Harry lay back on a sofa, playing a short melody on a Christmas gift of his, Hagrid's hand carved flute. He was lounging in front of the fire grate in the Slytherin common room, seemingly doing nothing at all while he was, in fact, practicing his craft. At a glance it did not seem that way, for the young lad was training his art in perhaps the least expected of ways possible.

He was, quite literally, playing with fire - but it wasn't the flames that Harry was trying to control.

Within the blazing stone hearth a test of the young Slytherin's will was being waged. Glints of arctic blue, silver, and white battled for supremacy amidst the fiery brilliance of yellow, gold, and red. Shadows danced at the back of the fire grate as a single fragile wispy form bobbed innocuously over the leaping tongues of the burning flames.

Just when the heat seemed about to overwhelm the poor thing a second near identical twin came to accompany its side. A third blossomed out of the ether with yet another flicker of blue, followed by a fourth, fifth, and sixth. With each consecutive appearance the temperature in the room noticeably dropped bit by bit. The fire itself, once a proud conflagration, blazed majestically in a final act of defiance before its light, too, began to recede. Not two minutes later nine snowflakes sat in an undulating circlet above the hearth's dying flames. A thin smile played across his stoic features as the slightly winded boy held out his hand for the umpteenth time. His magic flared wondrously to the fore like a deep ocean current in the process of adding a tenth to the nine.

A steady groan of stone sliding against stone gave the Young Master good reason to pause. From the corner of his eye, he watched the false wall partition that hid the Slytherin dorm entrance sliding open and out of place, revealing the narrow passageway leading in. There was no one standing there waiting at the archway; least ways, there was no one there to be seen. Harry knew better than to presume something like that, of course...

"Been too long, hasn't it, Greengrass?" The emerald eyed wonder calmly said, making a subtle hand gesture at the fireplace. Nine glittering snowflakes and the beginnings of a half dispelled soundlessly with the dismissive wave, disintegrating altogether in fine plumes of blue mist. The dying embers, suddenly freed from their glacial prison, practically erupted in response, bursting forth from smoldering ash to a veritable inferno of flames. "Been well these past few days, I hope."

"Couldn't have been better," The blonde replied, shrugging off the invisibility cloak to reveal a familiar mass of princess curls. "I've had an eye opening couple of days, you can say."

"Oh believe me, I don't doubt that," Harry muttered in his customary monotone, fond memories of his first night in the castle flashing in the back of his mind. "I'd have been very surprised if you had not."

Stowing Hagrid's flute under the sleeves of his robes, the boy turned fully away from the fireplace to regard his housemate in full. At first glance Daphne looked to be her usual cool and regal self, but there was something different about her somehow. With the flickering shadows in the room it took another moment to realize exactly what.

"Having a little trouble sleeping, Greengrass?" Harry gently asked.

"No more than I usually do," She calmly demurred, "And even if I was it shouldn't be your concern - not that I mind that you care," She amended smoothly. "Now come on; I've got something to show you..."

"Well aren't you energetic for someone whose next to dead on her feet," He said, sounding distinctly more amused than annoyed by her persistence. "Really, can't this wait until next morning?"

"Perhaps it could," Daphne allowed, tapping the point of her jaw, "But who knows? There's always a possibility it might just disappear long before then." Her taciturn blue eyes settled slyly upon him. "Would you honestly be willing to take that chance?"

"Do I really get a choice in the matter?" Harry asked, having seen that particular look from Susan.

The boy had no sooner stood up to adjust his robes before his housemate grasped hold of his shoulders and began escorting him out the door.

"I guess not."

Minutes passed by quietly as the Slytherin pair went roaming together in the school's dimly lit halls.

"You should have seen it, Potter," The blonde whispered intently (excitedly?) as they strode side by side under the anonymity of Harry's invisibility cloak. "It was just so, so..."

"Breathtaking?" He supplied, studying the undercurrent of emotions on the girl's oddly animated face. "Awe inspiring, perhaps?"

"You've no idea...," She confided with a knowing smirk. "We're almost there; hurry up, come on-"

Feelings of shock and outrage suffused her features as Harry unexpectedly pulled her into a cramped niche on the 4th floor staircase's left side.

"Just what the hell do you think you are playing at, Potter?!" The furious blonde gave a hiss and a snarl.

Harry predictably bit back a growl as he tried to dodge a flurry of the girl's nails.

"Ouch! Will you stop that, this instant!?" He gritted through clenched teeth. "I hear someone coming!"

True to his word a series of familiar voices were drifting down from around the blind corner of the hall. Daphne, for her part, blanched visibly but held her ground, coolly meeting his glaring green eyes. The boy held her gaze a good five seconds longer before turning away with the faintest of smiles; the girl in turn blushed a deep crimson despite her unrepentant looks.

"Don't even think for a second that just because that man is laid up, crying his eyes out in his room that this clears my suspicions of him," Came the surly undertones of the pair's Head of House.

"My dear Severus, you know I cannot afford to presume anything at this point," A jovial grandfatherly voice responded back. "Although, even you must admit, retrieving the stone will be no small undertaking, indeed, now that he has been divested of his wand."

Snape grimaced but apparently could not fault the Headmaster's logic. Harry frowned as well, listening intently but unable to follow their words.

"And what of the Prefects' missing wands? Quite a coincidence for all this to occur on the same night. It is entirely possible that Quirinus is simply faking his loss. Perhaps lure us into a false sense of security; divert all suspicions away from him. He knows very well what it is I suspect..."

"Well then, my friend, one can never be too cautious," Albus Dumbledore smiled with that faint twinkle in his eye. "Hence, the reason why we are all present tonight."

Between Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and Sprout the magnificent Mirror of Erised floated easily along the deserted corridor, supported by the combined strength of what must have been three carefully applied Hovering charms. The Headmaster himself and his fellow Potions colleague were leading the entourage from the front while the ever silent Professor Vector trailed after them just a short distance behind. Harry, of course, didn't fully grasp what was being said, nor did he understand why he felt his compatriot tense as the procession passed them by.

He was not one of Hogwarts' brightest students, however, not to hazard a guess. Some of his suspicions were immediately confirmed by the insistent tug of fingers upon his hand. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline as the boy turned to stare at the solemn girl.

'Oh, you don't seriously expect me to-,' He tried to communicate through wide disbelieving eyes.

Daphne feigned ignorance as she brushed past his shoulder. Between acting irresponsible versus leaving a friend behind, the stoic Slytherin had little choice but to follow in her steps. Feeling a little more than slightly anxious at the prospect of getting caught, Harry stuck close to her side, keeping them safely clothed under the enchanted folds of the invisibility cloak. He was almost too preoccupied with unease to notice what the professors were doing up ahead.

"They're splitting up," She whispered, and sure enough Snape, Vector, and the rest of the Professors bowed to Dumbledore, going their separate ways leaving him with the mirror on his own.

"Just where is he - that's the Forbidden Corridor," The girl murmured in an oddly detached tone. "He can't take that there; he can't!"

Fearing that the blonde was about to try something truly reckless the boy pulled his housemate bodily behind a row of pillars near an alcove overlooking the third floor corridor entrance. It was a good thing he did and just in time, too, as Daphne didn't seem to be in any mood to be having any of it.

"Greengrass!" The Young Master whispered fiercely into her face. Her efforts to break away from cover instantly ceased with a single sharp glance. "Now listen; listen to me well - relax, just relax."

Staring off at an imaginary point on the wall, Daphne managed to do just that.

"Was that mirror the surprise you wanted me to see?"

"..." The girl murmured.

"'Yes and no?' Such an odd response." Regarding her gently, he said, "You want to know what I think?"

"...?"

"For something so beautiful, it might deserve a place in the Forbidden Corridor, after all."

To this pronouncement the blonde responded with harsh look.

"Easy. I'm not saying that it's dangerous. Let's face it; what exactly do I know about it?"

"Nothing," The girl arrogantly replied.

"And that's where you're wrong," Smiled the boy, a decidedly wry expression upon his face. "I've seen the way that you've looked at that mirror, and I've observed how you've been acting thus far - and don't tell me it shouldn't concern me, because you know what it does." Stealing a glance around the corner, Harry missed the calculating look that Daphne sent his way. "What did you see in the looking glass?"

His only answer was a sly enigmatic smile.

"_Sigh_, you're not going make this any easier for me, are you? You're not going to let this go, no matter what I say..."

Daphne never really got a chance to reply as soft lilting music filled the torch lit corridor.

"What is the Headmaster doing back there, anyway?" She huffed, feeling ruffled and rather annoyed once again. "Rehearsing for a ball masque?"

Knowing full well what lay at the end of the corridor, Harry grew momentarily distracted, lost in thought. For whatever reason, his mind was suddenly transported back to Magnolia Elementary. Not to the bullies; not to Dudley; but to the subject of English, where the teachers had them read the many stories of old; The Aesop Fable, The Tales of Grimm, and his favorite ones of all...

"It's a lullaby," He ventured out loud.

"Lullaby?" The blonde echoed, staring closely at him, confused.

"Old Greek legend," He hurriedly explained. "The tale of the legendary bard and lyricist Orpheus, and the three-headed Guardian of the Underworld, the Cerberus. Yes, there's a Cerberus down there; I've seen it with my own eyes." Daphne took one look at his face and didn't doubt him on that. "Guess the Muggle tales the teachers taught at my old school weren't all just bed time stories and myths."

Blue eyes turned at the sound of creaking hinges. Far ahead at the end of the corridor, the Headmaster could be seen standing before the heavy black door. Just before Dumbledore disappeared within Daphne caught a glimpse of an enormous pair of blinking, half lidded baleful looking eyes.

"You seem to know more about Hogwarts than you really should..."

"Why do you sound surprised? You've said something to that effect before," Harry quipped, sobering when all he received was her frown. "I'm sorry the night didn't go the way you wanted it to..."

"It doesn't have to end. Let's go."

Daphne felt an odd sense of achievement as she watched the normally unflappable boy throw his hands up in the air. The cloak billowed off their shoulders, revealing their faces for just a split second. He hastily dropped his hands back down as the cloak fell back into place.

"Suffice it to say, you did not imply that as to mean that we should retire."

"Not at all," The blonde loftily said.

A long suffering sigh escaped the Young Master's frowning lips. For once in a many years, he found himself rooted between a rock and a truly hard place. The boy most certainly did not approve of what his housemate was proposing - it was unspeakably rash, not to mention potentially dangerous for the both of them. But on the flipside of the coin, Harry just couldn't bear the thought of denying the happiness of a friend. Having been so long denied such feelings from the Dursleys left him at a loss with indecision.

He knew very well that he ought to listen to logic - but he'd always been a boy who listened to his heart.

"Just tell me, Greengrass. Why would you recklessly risk getting caught by the Headmaster himself? Sure, we have an invisibility cloak; I'll give you that - but do you really think that will fool him? Besides him and the Cerberus, we don't know what else's down there. Is this really that important to you?"

Uncertainty burned in the face of her resolve as the blonde stared down a pair of startling green pools.

"There's nothing...I can say to convince you otherwise, is there?" The boy sighed.

For a brief instant, the young witch actually looked apologetic. That decided it for Harry.

"Very well," He acquiesced. "Get some sleep, Daphne. If this means so much to you, I promise to accompany you here at ten in the morning. Now come on; it's late. Let's head back for the dorms."

"Eight sharp," The blonde amended quickly.

"That's really pushing it, Greengrass," The Young Master quietly laughed. "But all right. If you must insist, eight it is."

Detaching themselves from the lengthy shadows, the pair of Slytherins slipped stealthily away from the third floor corridor. Neither sensed the malicious red eyes hidden in the alcove behind them.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Morning arrived a bit too soon for the enigmatic boy, who was instantly alert the moment he woke up in his bed. Harry had never set much by the rules (as doing so had only served to limit him in the past), but there were certain lines that even he was not willing to cross - especially if he didn't know beforehand what lied on the other side. The boy didn't need all the wisdom in the world to tell him that this venture was a bad idea. All the same, Harry felt compelled to go.

Not out of duty or obligation (save for concern and well being of a friend), but simple curiosity. What had his housemate seen in the mirror that was so wonderful that she would scatter all sense of logic to the four winds? He had never seen such strong emotions from the taciturn girl, thus it was only natural why what she had seen concerned him so. The "stone" itself (if that was indeed what was safeguarded down there) barely struck him as an item of interest.

Pocketing his shrunken broom, his book bag, and whatever else he deemed useful for the trek Harry hurried purposefully out of the Slytherin dorms, feeling a little too vigilant to bother with a bite to eat. Breakfast could wait, he decided. Even so, the boy dropped by the kitchens to greet the elves and pack themselves a bit of brunch. Having done that he set off for the third floor corridor, where he'd promised Daphne they'd meet.

He hastened his pace once he reached the foot of the changing stairs; he'd dallied a little longer than expected with Twitchy and the elves, and had to hot foot it all the way back so he wouldn't show up late. Four agonizing minutes later (the moving staircases seemed to have something against him) Harry leapt the last two flights of stairs just as the clock struck eight. The third floor was deserted.

Not a soul was there.

"Greengrass?" He stage whispered, wondering if she had concealed herself once again under his father's cloak. There was no reply; only the sounds of his own echo.

A sickening feeling of weightlessness filled his gut as his eyes wandered the empty corridor.

"Oh no..." Drawing out his wand, Harry ran in complete earnest to the door at the end of the hall.

Just as he feared he heard music playing inside the room. Relief washed over him like an ocean wave. Perhaps he wasn't too late? His hopes of finding Daphne were dashed the moment he pushed past the door. There was no trace of the girl to be found; only the massive form of the slumbering Cerberus and a small music box left in the middle of the room. Gingerly picking up the antique so as not to jostle it unnecessarily, Harry walked up to the trapdoor in the middle of the room and pried it open, staring contemplatively down at the vast expanse of gloom.

"_Engorgio_."

The Cerberus continued to snore completely unawares as the Moontrimmer unshrunk at his command. Shrinking the music box for safekeeping, the Young Master straddled the broom and steered it down into the black hole, drifting into the shadows long before the three headed dog could come fully awake. He ignored its lethargic growls to focus on a different sound, something like a sibilant hiss.

It was echoing off the walls from somewhere down below.

Harry didn't think for a second that that sounded very pleasant. Never the one to leave possibilities to chance, Harry aimed at the impenetrable darkness with the end of his hemlock wand.

"_Incendio._"

A rather weak gout of flame (little more than a spark; but should that really bother him?) streaked several feet below before igniting on something that the boy couldn't quite see. Whatever it was reacted instantly, producing an earsplitting shriek as the fire spread, and in the sudden brightness he caught sight of a mass of leafy tendrils thrashing and writhing all over the room. Instinctively the mess of vines shrank from the fire and retreated back into the wall, and suddenly the way down was free. Swooping through the gap on his broom, Harry landed unharassed on a rugged stone floor.

"Still weak as ever," He muttered, as the meager flames overhead began to gutter out. "I guess it's expected."

Command over ice had to have its limits, after all. Before the vines could reclaim the darkness the boy spotted a sloping passageway up ahead. Summoning a snowflake to light his path, Harry proceeded forth into the unknown, keeping a vice grip on his wand every step of the way. Perhaps sensing his trepidation the gnarled length of hemlock pulsed comfortably in his hand. The boy stopped momentarily to catch a breather and basked in its soothing flow. When he opened his eyes the Young Master smiled; he felt like usual self once again.

Light at the end of the passageway opened up to a truly impressive chamber with a domed ceiling hung high overhead. It made him think of a great big aviary, filled with the fluttering shapes of what looked like lacewing birds - a misconception that proved untrue as his eyes settled far ahead on a heavy wooden door. A heavy wooden door riddled with the embedded teeth of dozens upon dozens of winged jewel bright keys. Provided that keys lodged halfway into a door wasn't normal Harry was able to deduce three things; one, the keys were booby trapped; two, _Alohamora_ probably wasn't going to work; but most importantly three, Daphne had passed by this way.

Harry was left at a crossroads whether to be angry or relieved.

Ignoring the flock of flying keys and the old school broom lying on the floor the Young Master set his sights solely upon the door. Running his fingers across its front, the wood proved unyielding and sturdy, but the lock, he discovered, was old and rusty, almost in a state of disrepair. He had no qualms about helping the process along, grasping the handle firmly in hand and allowing the essence of winter to achieve its course.

Mist rose from between his fingers as the iridescent sheen of ice crept slowly but gradually across the eroded surface. It spread further and further in a blossoming arch, consuming all in its path until the deep freeze crystallized the entirety of the tarnished metal. The locking mechanism - springs, gears, and all - didn't stand a chance. It splintered audibly with the sound of brittle crack. Accepting that as his cue Harry nudged the door open with his boot, letting the door yaw as he stepped in.

Torches flared to life at his approach, revealing the next chamber for what it was. One huge chessboard with two sets of imposing stone figurines facing down one another from opposite ends. The pieces, some thrice as tall as himself, were truly beautiful to look at, immortalizing their medieval likenesses in smooth monoliths of carved stone.

"Beautiful, just beautiful," The boy breathed. How wonderful would it be if he could just shrink them and take them to his room? Then again..., "_Reducio_."

Much to his delight, the rook nearest to him began to shrink. To his chagrin the chessboard flashed right under it and began to reverse the process once it shrank to the size of a thimble. Lifting his left hand up into the air, the rook paused in mid growth as the now fist sized piece hovered at his wandless command.

"_Reducio_."

A beam of light flew from the tip of his wand to strike the tower shaped piece. Harry smiled; the rook stayed shrunk. Wandlessly levitating the piece into his book bag Harry proceeded to clear the board, opting to continue with the opposing side first. No sense risking things by taking out his own king first...

Once all the pieces were separated in their designated pockets (putting opposite ends together seemed to inevitably cause them to clash) the Young Master leaned heavily against the wall, contemplating the possibilities of the next challenge. He stumbled across the empty chessboard to the door on the other side of the room, sweaty, drained, not to mention out of breath. Perhaps it hadn't been wise to exert himself so?

"No use worrying about that now," He deduced, fishing a meat pie or two from the recesses of his pack. "But at this rate I have to wonder - which will I find first; the mirror, the stone, or the girl?"

Preparing himself for yet another challenge Harry half expected another chamber beyond the next set of doors. He was decidedly relieved to discover that that was not the case. Between evading monsters and circumventing booby traps, a seemingly endless series of steps was no big deal for him. What's more it was wide and spacious; plenty of room to navigate on a broom. Still recovering as he was the boy took full advantage of just that.

To him it seemed like no time at all had passed when he swooped down into the dimly lit room.

Braking to a stop and landing lightly in the antechamber, Harry was not at all surprised to find what he'd been searching for therein. Partially garbed in his invisibility cloak, Daphne stood stifflly in the center of the enclosed chamber, her gaze fixed solely upon her reflection in the magical mirror. Her princess curls lay in disarray, her robes noticeably wrinkled, disheveled, and unclean; yet for all intents and purposes the girl had weathered her experiences relatively well, unharmed; scot-free. There was no stone to be seen in the room, but that wasn't important; it wasn't like he came here for that.

Unfortunately, there was just something indubitably wrong with the picture.

Daphne was not alone, and she was not in friendly company.

Someone was pacing in and out of the shadows with his wand aimed squarely at her back. He was muttering darkly under his breath, his focus enrapt upon the girl and the mirror, and though the man never looked in his direction Harry could not have missed the purple turban wrapped around his head.

"_What_?" The boy forced himself to silently exclaim.

Everything that Snape and Dumbledore had alluded the night before suddenly made a whole lot more sense then. The professors had somehow suspected Quirrell of coming after the stone for who knew how long since. From what the boy was seeing at the moment (and even now he was finding it hard to believe) it seemed they were right. Shocked as he was with this revelation he dismissed the feeling out of hand. Daphne was in trouble; that was what really concerned him.

Concealing the hemlock and rock feather wand within the flowing sleeves of his robes, Harry's mind set to work trying to figure out a plan. Fate apparently didn't seem to be agreeing with him today...

"My patience is wearing thin, Greengrass," The normally jumpy professor snarled. "What do you see in the mirror?!"

The girl flinched but otherwise stayed her ground, refusing to match his gaze. Outraged and finally at the end of his tether, the wild eyed wizard made his intentions clear when he raised up his wand.

"It would seem a little persuasion in in order. _Crucio_!"

Daphne tried to jerk away from the man, eyes dilating in horror and surprise.

A jet of malevolent red light flared from the glowing tip of Quirrell's wand-

Only to be intercepted a split second later by the freezing cold surface of a six sided star of pure of ice. Harry stared as the snowflake shattered, then glanced at his upraised hand. The boy's magic (at least it'd seemed to him then) had suddenly developed a mind all its own.

Quirrell looked equally surprised as well, and he reacted just as quick, too. With a deft snap of his fingers ropes sprang like snakes out of thin air and quickly restrained the Young Master on the spot.

"Potter!" The professor smirked with malicious delight. "Interesting bit of spell work, I must say - surprised you aren't at the top of the class."

"..." Harry didn't really have anything to say to that, so he didn't.

"We thought you might show," Quirrell continued breezily. "You p-p-promised the girl, didn't you? Slytherin, ha! Far from a credit to your very own House..."

"Good morning, Greengrass," The boy politely addressed his friend, ignoring the triumphant visage of the habitual stutterer altogether. "Looks like you've picked up an especially untoward guest."

"Looks that way," Daphne derided the professor in turn. "Practically had to hold his hand, forced me to take the lead every single step of the way. So rude, so improper, so ungentle like." As an afterthought she added, "Took my bloody wand away from me, too."

"Well that's only fair, wretched girl; as they say, turnabout is only fair play!" The wizard snapped. "If I hadn't been wandering the castle, retracing my steps last night, I might have never overheard the both of you talking under that silly cloak, and I would never have guessed who it was who managed to snatch my wand!"

"So you did manage to lose it," Harry said, moving both his hands inconspicuously trying not to look like he was doing anything at all. Daphne seemed to notice but wisely turned her eyes away, keeping it to herself. "The professors said as much you know; pity things didn't stay that way."

"Ah, I suppose you are referring to Snape. Devil knows how that man figured out that I was the one who set troll in the dungeon. While everyone else was running around the castle looking for it, Severus went off to the third floor to head me off. I never did get to test the stone's protections, and it was such a useless distraction anyway. Still not sure who or what did it in, and Snape has been a thorn in my side ever since. Never left me alone; tried to frighten me, as if he ever could. He doesn't know that I'm never alone..."

Quirrell's face twitched unpleasantly. He looked like he was about to say something more when he twitched once again and paled. Binding Daphne up carelessly with a flick of his wand, the professor turned his full attention upon the enchanted mirror, pacing once more as he muttered his thoughts.

Eventually the man asked, "What do you know about this mirror, Potter? Shouldn't put it past you if you already figured something about Flamel's precious stone," He muttered lowly, glancing slyly at the boy, perhaps fishing for a reaction.

"Probably as much as you," The boy honestly said. "I've never actually seen the mirror up close."

Now that he was, Harry was truly able to appreciate the beauty of the thing. He didn't dare look directly into the thing, and it was because of that that he noticed something that Quirrell and Daphne had not. There was an inscription written across the top of the frame. It read, _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi_. Gibberish? For some reason the Young Master didn't believe that that's what it was. Reading it straight did nothing for him, and assuming they weren't just scrambled words he tried to read the message the other way around. Several attempts at rearranging words later he came up with a legible sentence; _I show not your face but your heart's desire_. That made Harry especially curious; what would the mirror show someone who couldn't be happier with the world?

"I don't understand...," Quirrell continued to mutter. "I can see myself holding the stone; I'm presenting it to my master...But how do I get it? Should I break it? No...This mirror is the key, but how?! Leave it to Dumbledore to come up with something as complicated as this...Help me, Master!"

"Just who do you think you are talking-?" Daphne paled as she was promptly cut off by the cold sibilant echo emanating from the professor himself.

"_**Use the boy**_..." The voice suggested.

Relief washed across the pale wizard's face. Harry's scar began to itch.

"Come here, Potter!"

Quirrell clapped his hands together, freeing Harry in an instant. Seeing the wand digging at his friend's temple, the boy narrowed his eyes but obeyed the professor as the man beckoned him forward, keeping his hands hidden up his sleeves. The temperature in the room had begun to fall; Quirrell stayed oblivious.

"Look in the mirror and tell me what you see. Stand up, girl, isn't this what you and Potter came for?"

The boy paused in mid step as the wizard dragged a protesting Daphne roughly across the floor. Fingers clenched under the sleeves of his robes. Several things that lay relatively harmless in his hands suddenly lengthened into a series of sharp jagged edges. It drained him to do so, but Harry didn't care. The Young Master regarded the mirror fiercely with his mind made up on one thing.

His dear old professor was never going to clap his filthy hands on Flamel's precious stone. Oho, he'd see to that...

Even if it meant destroying the bloody thing; which would be no loss for him. It was only a question of how he was going to find the stone first, and without Quirrell's noticing. No pressure there, he randomly thought. Then he remembered how the man had used Daphne to get this far, the strange spell he'd tried to cast upon his friend, and then the flash of terror he'd seen in her eyes.

Vengeance, he resolved, should be sweet.

Snatching Quirrell's dreams away from him would be justice. Calm green eyes glimmered imperceptibly upon his reflection in the mirror. Thus distracted Harry barely caught his alter echo's knowing smile. He did not miss the sudden motion of its fingers as it reached into the right side of his robes, and he definitely could not ignore the vibrant red gleam in his mirror reflection's hands. It winked broadly, palming the beautiful red stone, before pocketing it once again. When it did the Young Master felt an unfamiliar weight settle in his right breast pocket.

"Potter, what is it?" Quirrell interjected from behind his right shoulder, "Well, what do you see?!"

"I see myself with the stone..." The boy strung his professor along.

"Yes!"

Daphne, bound and gagged on the side, looked strangely displeased by this.

"No different than you," Harry continued, dashing all the man's hopes.

Oaths of exclamation slipped freely from between Quirrell's gnashing jaws. The Young Master subtly took several steps back, taking advantage of the man's preoccupation to sidle up towards his friend. His thoughts came to an unexpected turn as the cold raspy voice from before boomed impossibly from behind Quirrell's turbaned head.

"_**The boy lies**_..."

"Just what makes you so sure of that?" The boy calmly said, stifling the urge to rub at the scar on his head.

"_**Let me speak to the boy**_..._**Face to face**_."

Uncertainty and reverence quarreled upon the frowning professor's face.

"Master, are you sure? You - you are not strong enough!"

"_**Ah, but I have strength for this**_..."

Bowing to no one in particular, Quirrell began to methodically unwrapping his turban. Harry reached Daphne by then and silently set to work on her binds. No sooner was she freed when the back of the wizard's head was revealed. Staring back at their gaping visages in the mirror was a terrible emaciated face. It was bloodless and gaunt, sickly almost - yet it was somehow vital, and strong. For reasons the Young Master could not fathom, the narrowed red eyes and unnatural tapering slits of its nose reminded him most of a snake.

"_**Harry Potter**_," The face laughed in its high pitched, dry crackling tone. "_**So we meet again. Are you proud, young snake, to be a member of my prestigious House? Your father James would have likely disowned you had he been alive to hear the news! I'm not so sure about his precious Lily, but perhaps I did both your parents a favor that night on Halloween**_."

Daphne gasped. Harry paled and felt cold all over, and it had nothing to do with his magic's comforting embrace.

"Voldemort...," Seeing his parent's murderer in the flesh was doing nothing for his composure. "Word has it you disappeared..."

Harry would have retreated several steps if it wasn't for the unexpected weight of his petrified friend. The Young Master eased the quaking girl gently to one side, whispering assurances ("Everything will be okay; don't worry. Look away, look away...") while keeping a wary eye on the 'man' before him at all times. It relieved him somewhat that Voldemort's focus lay solely upon him.

"_**Yes**_..._**See what I've become? A shadow of my former self, living through another; a mere parasite! I have form, but only through those willing to let me into their hearts and minds**_. _**While there are plenty who are worthy and willing, what I need is a means to create a body of my own**_..._**And that means currently lies**_-"

Amazement briefly overshadowed the savage victory on the twisted thing's face.

"_**Interesting**_...," Voldemort cackled at length. "_**So very difficult to read; I can sense the lies in your words, but not the truth in your mind**_. _**You hide your emotions very well, Potter**_."

"..."

Keeping his silence seemed to only amuse the strange not quite man. Fear was replaced by a focused feeling of anger.

"_**Ah, how touching; bravery. Your parents had it too. I must admit, your father was a true credit to his House - he put up a courageous fight, held his own to the bitter end. Lily, on the other hand, died begging me, pleading to me not to take your life. She needn't have died, and now nor should you. Don't be a fool; don't let your mother's sacrifice be in vain! Join me, Harry. We can bring them back, if that is what you wish. Together we will perform extraordinary things. But I must ask for something in return**_..."

"...Would you be able to bring them back?"

"_**Of course**_..."

"Everyone you killed?" Voldemort blinked at the boy's calm frown of defiance. "My parents, the McKinnons, the Prewets, the Bones? Magic might be great, but I doubt even you can claim to have any power over death."

"_**Casting doubt upon my abilities? You should learn from example, young snake; there is no good and evil. Only power, and those too weak to seek it. KILL HIM**_!"

Quirrell leapt into action-

But not before Harry did first.

A sweep of his left arm set the Young Master's clothes aflutter. Several glinting hues, almost too quick for the man to see, knifed through the air from the sleeves of the boy's robes. Unable to tell what was coming but knowing for certain it wasn't going to be good for him, Quirrell quickly raised his wand.

"_Protego_!"

The transparent barrier that surrounded Quirrell like an all encompassing bubble buckled and held through the first volley. Its aura faded, however, during the second wave. A wandless tingle rushed through his fingers to the last of the cold needles held in the boy's hands. Swinging his arms in a wide arcs once more, Harry let fly. Unable to reconcile with what it was that he was seeing, Quirrell had only time to cry out and raise up his arms in alarm before bolts of pain overtook him and momentum pitched him off his feet. For a split second the dazed professor experienced the surrealistic thrill of uncontrolled flight. Whatever peace Quirrell derived in that moment proved to be his last as a million shards of mirrored glass buried themselves explosively in the small of his back. Pain like none other filled his world, then everything began to fade to black.

Harry, despite being tense and cautious, still took a moment to shift his position, placing himself between the horrible sight of the dying man and his friend. It was a kind if futile gesture, as Daphne had long since fainted before then.

"**_If only the great Albus Dumbledore_**..._**Were here to see you now**_," Voldemort managed to chuckle despite his host's horrendous wounds. "_**And to think the spawn of sweet Lily and James**_..._**Could be capable of something like this**_._** How did you**_..._**Where is**_...?"

"Wondering where the stone went?" The Young Master addressed Quirrell (and Voldemort, by extension) through the fog. "I'm wondering how it is you're still alive. All the books say that you died, but your presence here tells me something different. Not quite alive, but not quite dead; is this all there is to your existence now? Don't suppose it's very likely that you'll let me in on your secrets, but still, if you can really detect the truth in my words then I think I can safely tell you this. Believe me when I say that I will do everything in my power to see to that your precious stone is destroyed."

'...Before I'll ever let you hold it in your hands,' Harry resolved, leaving the trail end of his thoughts unsaid.

It was merely a half truth, all honestly told; less than the truth but more than a lie. Voldemort, however, was unable to detect the difference. All he heard was the simple truth and conviction in the boy's words, and despite the unspeakable fury that he was in, the maleficient shade of the once great wizard had little choice but to take him at his word and believe. Having nothing more to gain from his dying follower, Voldemort departed with a hate filled scream and the flash of a dark shadow, a ghostly apparition bounding out of sight beyond the endless flight of steps from whence they came.

"Master...," The professor wheezed.

Quirrell didn't feel the hand rummaging through the pockets of his blood stained robes. He couldn't see Harry get afterwards as he retrieved Daphne's stolen wand. Sounds no longer registered either, so he was unable to hear the boy retreat several steps, pause, and pick up the professor's dropped wand.

"Goodbye professor," Harry said, kneeling down by Daphne's side to pick up the girl. "Let's hope we never meet again."

Carrying the blonde almost bridal style on his broom, the stoic Slytherin sped off up the steps, leaving Quirrell to realize in his final fleeting moments that his master no longer needed him and that he, for all that he had sacrificed for _him_, had always been well and truly alone.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Daphne gradually came to in an unfamiliar room.

"Nice to have you back again. Guess you haven't been sleeping well for the past few days; it's almost sundown."

"Where are we, Potter?" The girl asked, sitting up in bed.

"Perhaps it's not what you're used to," His calm detached voice issued from the left side of the four poster bed, "But welcome to my humble little abode once again." The boy was reclining lazily in his seat, a plush chair he'd dragged from the common room. "I do believe these belong to you..."

Smiling in silent gratitude, the blonde accepted the music box, the invisibility cloak, and two lengths of willow and cherry wood. Using her own wand she shrunk the music box, wrapped it in the invisibility cloak, and pocketed the whole thing. Immediately afterward the length of willow and dragon string disappeared into her pockets as well. Quirrell's precious cherry wood she hesitated to put away. The girl stared at it long and hard for almost a minute.

"...Exactly, how did we get back here?"

"Your Christmas gift, remember?" Harry smirked, tapping the handle of the fine yet sturdy broom. "It's a very nice broom I've got to admit. Never figured I'd be using it in the castle too..."

"What happened to...?"

"Flamel's stone? It's safe," The boy reassured with a conviction that she didn't doubt.

"As for Quirrell," His serene expression hardened, if by only a little, "Don't worry your head about him; he made a choice and he paid for it. Considering how he carelessly gambled with your life tonight, that man will be of no loss to this school. None of the professors are aware of anything amiss as yet, but they will - before the end of the night - when dinner comes and he fails show. I suspect there will be an announcement after the break that our dear Defense Professor has 'taken an early leave from his duties, expressing his wishes to quietly retire.'"

The blonde blinked, not missing the import of her housemate's words.

"So - the Dark Lord? He's gone...?"

Harry gazed frankly into Daphne's guarded blue eyes.

"McGonagall said that the day my parents died that monster disappeared. She said his curse rebounded on him, but she never said he was dead. I get the impression she thought he was laying low somewhere, recuperating...Guess this year he was just ready to rise back to power. Lucky us, we didn't face him in his former glory. Today could've ended very badly for the both of us."

"In other words...He's..."

A trace of fear underscored her words. As a favor to his friend Harry decided to head that off.

"_Voldemort_'s a spirit now, Greengrass." The boy smiled mildly as the blonde jumped, startled, then glared. "He's not the all powerful wizard that he used to be. Yes, I don't doubt that he's looking for a new host right now, but I don't think he'll find another means to bring himself back any time soon. Finding ways to cheat death can't be too easy, even for someone like him. If it were great witches and wizards like Merlin and Morgana would probably still be around. As far as we can tell they are not."

Daphne didn't look entirely swayed by the Young Master's argument, but his words succeeded in calming her nerves somewhat. At least enough for her to remember to ask a very important question.

"...Could you tell me what you really saw in the mirror, Potter?"

Instead of answering her outright, Harry wrote down the inscription he'd seen on the frame the mirror.

"Look at this as you might in a looking glass," He said, handing her the bit of parchment. "This was the only message I found inscribed on that antique. It might help you understand the mirror's true purpose."

The blonde took the note with some confusion but read the inscription regardless. Several heartbeats passed. Eventually the blonde turned a healthy shade of red.

"Oh...," She simply said. Her expression betrayed nothing, but her tone told him all.

"May I ask...What that mirror showed you?"

She shifted uncomfortably, measuring her next words in her mind.

"It's nothing. Nothing but a dream."

"You don't seem to sound like you believe in it anymore," Harry noted quietly. "What's so different now than it was then? Didn't you want to believe in it so strongly?" The boy gently pressed. "Isn't that why you were so eager to show me before?"

A frosty glare shot him a challenge which softened up immediately under his softhearted look.

Recalling something Susan sometimes did to him whenever she thought he was being broody, the boy reached a hand forward and tapped the girl gently on top if her head. The light brush of his fingers against her forehead surprised the girl enough to pull her out of her own brooding funk.

"Just because you've learned it's just a dream shouldn't make it seem any less real to you. If it's important keep it; don't give up and forget it. Maybe not everything we believe in this world is bound to come true, but I'd still like to think that we all have something to live for in our dreams. Would you have gotten this far if you hadn't, Daphne?"

"Never thought I'd have you to talk sunshine and roses," She laughed, hoping her housemate wasn't too offended by the sound of her tone. "I was almost certain that you were a pessimist at heart."

"Perhaps that's who I used to be," Harry mused.

"So what changed?" Daphne asked. The Young Master tilted his head to one side, sending her one of his patented looks.

"Right," She nodded, rolling her eyes. "How silly of me; how could I have ever forgotten about Bones?"

"And let's not forget about you."

Only Harry's intervention kept the blonde from tumbling out of bed.

"_Me_...?"

"You shouldn't sound too surprised," He said with a bemused, almost childish smile. "I didn't entrust you with my father's cloak just because you gave me a Christmas gift. Speaking of which, you might want to pull it out again."

"Can I ask the reason why?"

"Twitchy and her army of elves are probably putting the finishing touches to dinner by now. I told them I'd be bringing a friend along, and they're just dying to meet you. Supper couldn't hurt, could it?"

"No, it wouldn't," The girl agreed, unfurling the invisibility cloak. "Potter?"

Harry tilted his head with an inquiring look.

"I won't ask how you defeated Quirrell or the Dark Lord," Daphne blushed faintly; he had a feeling it meant she had fainted before then, "That is your secret to tell. But I am still curious; what is your heart's desire?"

"Better to leave you guessing," He detachedly teased. "What's yours?"

Daphne's sly look from the night before lit up her features in full force.

"Wouldn't you like to know," She smirked as she stood up from the bed and covered them both under the cloak. "Maybe you are right, Potter; maybe it's not just a dream. We'll see one day."

"Glad you changed your mind," The Young Master honestly said.

"Me too," Nodded the suspiciously smiling girl. "Take it from me, Potter, I'm going to have lot's of fun finding out if my dream can come true..."

For reasons as yet unknown to him, Harry Potter suddenly experienced a telltale feeling of impending doom.

A/N: I thought writing Halloween was bad! This was the most taxing (but also most fun) chapter I've ever had to write. For those of you still following my story, I'd like to express my gratitude and thanks for your time and patience. Bet you're wondering about Daphne's studies and Harry's shiny new stone! Not to mention what Susan's going to think about certain things...Wait and see. On to Book II: The Chamber of Secrets! Stick around, people! Want me to continue? Praise? Complaints? Whatever the case, review, review!


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